


six feet from the end of the line

by werebird



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain Marvel (2019), Marvel, Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Abduction, Aftermath of Violence, Canon Divergence - Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Captain America is pro choice, Falling In Love, First Time Blow Jobs, Forced Masturbation, Forced Pregnancy, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abortion, Jealousy, Medical Procedures, Multi, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Touching, Polyamory, Possibly Unrequited Love, Recovery, Safer Sex, Slow Build, Sort Of, Stockholm Syndrome, Threesome - F/M/M, Unethical Experimentation, Venom uses all the pronouns, just the right amount, plus Venom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2019-11-23 23:14:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 80,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18158303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/werebird/pseuds/werebird
Summary: "I want that mission report, Captain," Fury said, walking back behind his desk.""I can tell you exactly what happened," Steve snapped. He could feel the anger rushing through his blood. "They were using all of us for some kind of fucked up breeding program. A whole generation of super soldiers with photon powers and alien symbiotes. Oh, and they were immortal too. Right until I killed them."





	1. Chapter 1

It was the first thing Steve noticed, long before the pain, the comically squeaky noise of his boots on the rubber floor. His knees on the rubber floor. His shoulders on the rubber floor. The entire suit that mocked him whenever he moved. Leather and metal. And more rubber against the rubber of the sticky floor. There was sweat on his forehead, sweat or water. Or whatever other fluid came to mind. Wet strands of hair sticking to his skin. And there was blood in his mouth. Dried blood over the side of his face. All over the shell of his ear. There was light. Blinding light. Artificial light and a buzzing sound that wouldn't yield. Wouldn't stop. Wouldn't change. 

Despite it all, he rolled over onto his back in an attempt to regain control over his senses. With muscles aching through the effort, Steve managed to move his body although it unnecessarily exposed his chest to potential threats. And thus it began. The pain ripped through his arm like a blade. Like a burning knife. His shoulder spasmed as if it tried to stop the pain from spreading any further. Too late though, as more pain flared from his upper stomach at the stretch of his lungs and Steve figured he must have gotten a good kick in the ribs. Maybe he had been shot at. 

"Fuck," he groaned, just plain breathing hurt like being stabbed over and over again with every in- or exhale. Maybe something rattled and forced a cough up his throat. Maybe it was his dry throat itching for relief. 

Steve tried to blink through the light, tried to lift his hand for shade. It hurt like being torn from half of his skin, hurt like he wasn't just bending an elbow but bending it over broken glass, rolling it over toxic waste and dragging it through battery acid. 

When he finally laid his fingers over his brows, they were bare and the shock of it tore his eyelids open by itself. He blinked through the pain once more, through the light and disorientation to make out a shape. Any shape. He held his hand out but rolled back over on his side as his eyes teared up from the strain. It was all a blur and his attempts to find focus were shattered when he was forced to close his eyes again every time. His lids were heavy and he guessed they might have been swollen. Everything hurt and trying to keep his eyes open hurt and trying to grasp anything of his surroundings hurt. 

Deep breath in and then he exhaled slowly through his mouth to calm himself. There was pain there, too. His bottom lip was split, he noticed, as he tipped it with his tongue. At least he wasn't missing any teeth. 

He was still missing his gloves though and that meant that his suit was damaged. Maybe he was bleeding out from somewhere and had no way of telling. Steve tried to move his hands again but this time, the pain was infinitely worse so he paused another moment to breathe. His fingers felt numb against the rubber floor. The touch was stale and muted. Gave nothing away. 

Another breath. He would get through this. He would get through this, the same way he has gotten through all of it. He would survive. He had no other choice but to survive. 

This time, he opened his eyes slowly, and just until he felt the light pressure in the fold of his lid. He could do this. He could manage to get a glimpse. A blurry, teary, blazing mess of a glimpse but a fucking glimpse nonetheless. 

It was all white at first, like ice and snow, and then it was all static and grizzly. There was a blotchy red shape not too far from him which Steve identified as his boot by wiggling his toes through layers of anguish and pain. He couldn't quite make out the rest of his suit, the blue of his legs as it all melted into a soft light gray. He couldn't even tell the color of the floor. 

A tear ran from the corner of his eye and the more he tried to focus the more his eyes stung and watered. He bit on his lips to concentrate, to hold his gaze through the pain. He tried to keep his eyes open for longer -- he really tried -- for just another second, for just a closer look, but his body failed him. The moment his eyes closed back up the gray of the room faded into a thicker set of grey clouds. For a moment Steve thought, maybe his vision had returned but it was just the beginning of a dream and before he knew it he was out cold again. 

The dream moved Steve back and forth in time, forced him through a  seemingly endless series of false awakenings before the pain infiltrated his half-conscious mind and tore it fully back into the present. 

This time around it was different. It was just as painful. It was just as difficult and disorienting when he came to himself. It was just as wrong. He blinked himself awake, but his eyelids still felt heavy and sore. The thing that had changed was the light. It had faded from the cutting bleach crisp white into a smooth tinted yellow. An almost sundown orange. Steve sighed in relief, because he felt this time, he could manage to stay awake. To assess the situation like a soldier. Get moving maybe. Eventually. 

It was a lost hope though. Steve’s sight was still blurry and cost him too much energy, so he gave up for now. He was still lying on his side, curled up with one knee close to his body from when he had moved it to make out the shape of his own foot. Steve tried again to open his eyes, knowing now that he had a point of reference. That the red of the boot would meet him halfway, hold him and keep him from slipping again. He could try again and succeed this time. He knew now that he didn’t have to fear what he would see once he would open his eyes. Or so he thought. 

He couldn’t have moved much while he was out, that he knew. His hip bone was aching, carrying his weight for however long it had been. Hours maybe? Hopefully not. His entire right side was aching with the discomfort of the floor beneath him. His entire right side and his left shoulder. Steve remembered the shock of the missing gloves. He remembered holding out his arm and not being able to hold it up. He didn’t remember that it had dropped like a dead weight behind his back though, hanging off his elbow in an entirely unnatural angle. Now it added to the neverending list of things that hurt and felt broken inside Steve’s body. 

That arm, he certainly hadn’t moved, although he tried now to pull it over to his front. “Come on,” he said, thought, and moved his lips with each word. There wasn’t really a sound coming out with them. “Come on, now,” and then he jerked his elbow with all he got. Finally, he felt the forearm sliding along his stomach. It was a relief to his shoulder but caused pain in his wrist and along the inner side of his elbow. Steve let another breath pass his lips slowly and then gave his vision another shot. 

He opened his eyes, still relieved to find the light dimmed. Maybe this time things would clear up. Through the blur he searched for the red blotch again. Searched for his boot to keep him grounded on an entirely different level. It took him longer this time to make out distinctive shapes or colors, for the mess of swimming and merging ghosts to sort itself out. The gray bulk had split into blues and reds and silver spots. Into a field of mint green. But then, there it was. His own foot, wrapped up in signal red. Wrapped up in Steve’s visual anchor. Now it was only a matter of time until he would get back up on his feet. 

Steve gained focus only slowly but it never even seemed to reach as far as his boot. As far as his knees. And so Steve tried his belt. Tried for his glove-missing hand. The one that he had tried for the moment he had dared to open his eyes the first time. His focus snapped into place not at the sight of his bare palm but at the sight of his naked forearm. Where his suit had been carefully cut open, just up to his elbow, the useless fabric hanging off the back of his arm. 

“No,” Steve breathed, “no, no, no,” he pleaded through shaking lips to no one and everyone. This must have been another dream. None of this could be real. None of this was supposed to be real. He willed it to fade, willed it back into the unknown. In his fear, he shut his eyes tight again which caused his entire forehead to burn up in a surge of pain that forced his eyes right back open. Back open to another blurry mess of an incomprehensible soup of surroundings threatening to swallow him right up. To Steve, in that moment, it was a second chance. But he knew, he knew well enough, that nothing would have changed. 

He didn’t bother to look for his boot again, his vision was limited to things in his immediate proximity, so much was clear, even to Steve and the state that he was in. His eyes went back to his hand, went back to his wrist to find what he was so scared to look at again. His breaths were coming uncomfortably fast and it hurt him in his chest and it hurt him in his throat. Memories came back to life from when he was a kid, running too fast,  only for his asthma to catch up on him like an avalanche. 

At first, Steve couldn’t tell just how bad it was, because of all the blue, black and purple blotches that spread down from the crook of his elbow halfway down his forearm. It looked like just one big bruise the size of his fist, but Steve knew right away that it hadn't been just one object that had caused it. 

He didn’t have to look to know for sure, but on the other hand, he _had_ to look, to be precisely that. Sure. 

He had to get confirmation. Like any soldier, he had to get confirmation. So he swallowed through the pain, took another breath, slowly in through the nose, and then slowly out through his lips. Those lips that were still shaking and he couldn’t even remembered when that had last happened. If he was ever this scared. Or even that cold. And then he dragged his gaze over to his other arm, as slow and as arduous as if it weighed a hundred pounds. 

What they, whoever they were, had failed at in his left arm, they succeeded in at his right. Though, the struggle must have been the same. A similar, yet slightly smaller bruise had unfolded beneath the skin on the inside of Steve’s right elbow, smears of dried blood all over the skin. They must have gotten rather desperate, because eventually they seemed to have forced the needle into a long vein that ran up from his wrist and inserted the IV in the middle of his forearm where a lingering pain spread down to his fingertips and all the way up to his shoulder. Where it caused pain at the smallest movement. Although there was no line attached at the moment, they had fixated the cannula with four stripes of tape to keep the needle in place. For access. And it hurt. 

And Steve was left guessing, what they had injected his body with. Definitely something to keep him calm. Something to keep him quiet. Something to fuck with his senses. He knew he wasn’t in a hospital. Although the mint green floor and the sterile surroundings including the blinding lights could pass for a clinic any day. But he was lying on the floor. And he was hurt. And he was in pain and no one seemed to care. No one seemed willing to make him better. No one seemed willing to care for him. No, he wasn’t here to heal. 

It itched him to get rid of the thing, but he knew he would bleed and he could do more harm than good if he ripped that thing out with shaky hands and a blurry vision. Besides, it was done now. And it wasn’t connected to a bag yet, so it was just a dead end access point. For now. He needed to deal with it later. 

A shudder went through his body and he let it wash over him for now. He let himself sink into his own for just now. Allowed himself to feel small and heavy all the same. Immovable yet vulnerable. The feeling lulled him in and before he knew it, the pull became so strong that he allowed himself to rest his eyes for a second. For… Just a moment. 

No. 

He jerked his arm around, the one that had withstood the attempts of the needle and swung it back behind his body. The force of it, rolled Steve over once more, from his side to his back. The pain in his elbow and shoulder flared back up, and it was enough to shake him fully awake again. He had to move. He had to sit up or get on his feet. He had to get his metabolism running. He had to shake it off and fight. 

First, he opened his eyes, determined this time to keep them open at all costs. Then he tried to pull his knees up as it seemed a more reasonable attempt than go for his entire upper body at first. His legs felt gooey and heavy but he managed. He could even see those two knobbly bowls in clear blue and when he traced their shape with his gaze they barely blurred into one another at all. Somewhat proud, he dared to try and roll his head now, trying to get a sense of the room. It was all green. It was all green where he could make out anything clearly. Where he could see that there was nothing to make out. There was no door, but there must have been one somewhere. He realized now though, that the light that had bothered him must have indeed come from a lamp above him. One that was dimmed now. Because he couldn’t make out a window anywhere either. 

With his knees up and bend, Steve tried to push his body along. Tried to get to any wall that had to be somewhere behind him. It would give him protection and he could try to sit up against it. It was the only plan he was able to come up with. 

The first push hurt like hell. It didn’t feel like he dragged himself over smooth linoleum. It felt like he dragged his back over rocks and gravel. His skin burned and all of his muscles screamed. It made Steve worry once more that he had wounds, he didn’t know of yet. There was no wet blood anywhere. Though, that didn’t have to mean anything. He could have a broken back, broken bones or teared organs. He could be dying from whatever they gave him. 

None of it mattered now. He had to carry on. 

Long minutes passed before he could finally feel the concrete behind him and it took Steve more than three tries to actually maneuver his back against it. Now that he was sitting upright though, he had a better view of the room he had been put in. It did have a door after all, but it was in the far corner opposite. Of course, it was. Steve struggled to really make it out, but with its darker green, it was contrasting the light mint of the room. 

If he could keep his body moving and his mind focused, there was a good chance he could make it over there. He wasn’t sure if there was a camera. He couldn’t see one but that didn’t mean shit and it was one hell of a coincidence when the door opened and two figures walked in. They were tall shapes and seemed heavy. They probably wore some armour themselves. Boots. Maybe they carried guns. 

"Time to change, Cap," one of the assholes announced and held up a white sheet. Or at least what looked like a white sheet to Steve at first. After he moved a couple of steps closer, it turned out it was a simple white t-shirt and gray sweats. 

“What have you done?” Steve asked, or rather tried, because his voice sounded pitiful. “What did you do to me?” 

“Don’t worry about it,” the guy just said. He had a low rough voice. Like all the guys Steve had encountered over the years. All the guys who worked for people who would do this to him. “Just cooperate, okay?” 

As if, Steve thought, as if it was ever easy like that. Maybe he meant well, maybe he truly did, but Steve could see the other guy’s hand go for his belt. For whatever weapon he was carrying. 

“Look, we just want to get you out of that costume,” the guy said and Steve made note of his tone when he said ‘costume’. He had aimed to humiliate, that much was clear. But Steve kept his eyes on the guard with the belt. “Get you into some nice, clean clothes,” the guy went on, “and then clean up your face and get you settled with the other ones. 

The other ones. Steve looked up at that. Met that guy’s eyes with a lucid gaze for the very first time. The other ones. Bucky. Bucky and Nat and Sam. Right, he thought and shook his head. He hadn’t been thinking clearly. He hadn’t been alone. Before. But he couldn’t remember what he had been doing. What they had been doing. He couldn’t remember what went wrong. How he got here. But he remembered Bucky. And being on the run. And Nat and Sam who stood by him. 

“This doesn’t have to hurt more than it already did, alright?” the guy offered in a patronizing way. Steve wished he could show him exactly how much it had already hurt. Wished he could show him exactly in all the ways it had already hurt. He put it on the list for now. 

Instead, he nodded. Not quite sure what he had actually agreed to. When the guy took another step closer, Steve flinched out of reflex. The guard in the back pulled something from his belt immediately, the man in front of him however held up his hands. Despite everything, he seemed committed to establish some kind of trust. 

Steve knew better than to return it. He knew better than to give them the benefit of the doubt. Them, those Brock Rumlows and Jack Rollins’. It wasn’t beyond him to start a fight he was unmistakably going to lose, but for now he wanted to do everything in his power to keep them from forcefully administrating another round of drugs into his system. He needed a clear head and he couldn’t afford to be knocked out again. 

Steve let his gaze drop, signaling to whoever wanted him to submit that he was lowering his defenses. It didn’t felt right, though. Not for one second. To let that stranger approach him. To let him squat down next to him as if Steve was nothing but a wounded dog that only needed some proper handling. 

“Just tell me if this thing's got a zipper,” the guy said and Steve thought about lashing out. About yanking his entire arm against that guy’s face or forcing his foot underneath that guy’s ribs with a calculated kick. Maybe he was nothing but a wounded dog after all. 

Against all instincts, Steve tried to lean forward, just enough for that guy to help him out. It was unsettling. Some strangers fingers this close to his neck. At least the guy didn't linger, didn't stray. 

He smelled like cologne. A brand that seemed vaguely familiar. Probably one of those popular ones that got remakes for all seasons. And he had an earring. That was all Steve could make note of. Otherwise he was dressed all in black like his weapon carrying colleague. Dressed in heavy combat boots and a long sleeve. All he was missing was the belt for them to be interchangeable. 

It wasn't as easy as Steve had hoped, to guide the arm with the IV through what was left of the sleeve. But the guy had a sense for professional practicability and before he could really process it, Steve was left shirtless, his naked chest in the middle of this godforsaken green bubble. 

Steve glanced down at himself to notice that he had been right. He must have suffered some good punches, because the skin on the side of his ribs was bruised and he had some ugly marks and scratches as if someone had violently dragged him with rough fingers that dug into the soft skin around his armpits. 

Seeing those traces now made Steve sick to his stomach. He still couldn't remember what happened. His only consolation was that it looked like he put on a fight. But who's to say if he really did. Maybe they weren't ashamed of kicking a man when he was down. 

Sure, it didn't make a difference. But in that moment it did. In that moment Steve wished for confirmation that he delivered some good punches himself. He wished for nothing more than to know that someone had been punished already for what had happened to him. Someone who deserved it. 

The additional exposure, not just of skin but vulnerability, seemed to have dropped his temperature, made him freeze all of the sudden. It wasn't cold. The room wasn't cold, that guy's hands weren't cold, but Steve felt numb and just a shiver away from crying. 

Maybe the guy noticed. Maybe he just wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. In any way, he rolled up the t-shirt quickly and pulled it over Steve's head. Then he fumbled again with Steve's forearm, careful not to accidentally brush over the cannula and cause unnecessary damage. Or unnecessary harm. 

“There you go,” he said after Steve was dressed. “One down, one to go." 

Steve didn't know why he kept talking. It made him seem insecure. Guards are not supposed to seem insecure. The bad guys are not supposed to seem insecure. Or human. 

The man behind him seemed bored. Steve couldn't really make out his features without being forced to stare, but he guessed from body language and how belt-guy kept turning his head towards the door every now and then. 

Steve himself had nowhere to look, if he was being honest. He should have kept his eyes on earring-guy's hands. Make sure that he wouldn't hurt him as he undid the pants, but Steve couldn't bare the humiliation. The proximity. The gentleness in between all the violence. 

He hated it. And the sight of it. 

Barely present, Steve even helped along by lifting his leg as much as his worn out body allowed. Somehow, his legs came to him easier as his arms that still hurt all the way up with his muscles hardly reacting to any command. There were more bruises on one of his thighs and he wouldn’t rule out that he had broken one of his toes. It just-, did not look quite right. 

Earring-guy didn’t seem to notice. Neither when he slipped off the boot, nor when he helped Steve get his legs into the sweats. Maybe he knew already. Maybe a broken toe was the least of his worries. 

“Almost done,” he said, quietly. Just for Steve to hear. Then he hooked his arm under Steve’s shoulder, as close as if he was going in for a hug, to lift him up just enough for the pants to slip over Steve’s butt. Steve cried out barely audible over the sudden pressure on the bruises along his armpits. 

Wordlessly, the guy started collecting all the pieces of Steve’s suit and didn’t bother with even another glance at Steve himself. 

“We’ll come back when it’s worn off some more,” earring guy said to his colleague who grunted in affirmation. And then they were gone. And Steve was left alone. Despite what he was promised. To be taken where his friends were. Who, hopefully, were better off than him. He couldn’t allow more of those thoughts though. For now. They were too distracting. At least the guy had confirmed that whatever they gave him would wear off, so there was hope, he could manage to stand soon. Walk. Run even. And fight. 

From then on, Steve spend every second trying to wiggle his fingers, curl and lift them. After what felt like and eternity, his hands and arms started to feel like his own body parts again. And then, with shaky fingers, Steve started to peel off a strip of the tape that kept the IV needle in place. He wanted to use it to tape his damaged toe to the healthy one beside it, although he hadn’t been thinking the entire effort through. It would have still caused him an awful amount of energy to actually get it done. But it never came to it. Of course, it never came to it. Because they were watching him and he should have known that. He did know that. 

In walked belt-guy with a dismissive expression and both hands on his belt. He came to a halt three steps in, like he did before, and Steve’s fingers froze where they were. That guy sort of reminded him of himself. Not in a good way. And then they just stared at each other. Neither of them saying anything. Slowly Steve dropped the hand that was working around the needle and a second later the guy walked back out, seemingly content with what he had achieved. 

“Good talk,” Steve mumbled to himself although they probably listened to everything he said as well. If touching his arm was a no-go, he’d focus on getting up first. But although, he could feel his legs and could move them anywhere he’d like, he just seemed to miss enough core strength to get upright. As if his body was missing all abs all of the sudden. Missing all the muscles in his back. Whatever they gave him, was devil’s export. Frustration started to burn in Steve’s stomach, but he couldn’t use it to fuel himself. He couldn’t use it for anything. 

Before he even had a chance to plot something, anything, the door was opened once more and belt-guy returned in Steve’s sight. Earring-guy was right behind him this time though, and he moved up to Steve without hesitation. 

“Time to move,” he said, and crouched down with a cloth in hand to wipe off Steve's face. To get the blood off Steve's ear. It was luke warm but to say it was soft would have been overstated. Earring-guy used it with the same practical professionalism he had shown capable of before. When he dropped the cloth he stayed close. Evidently, to help Steve up at last. 

As far as Steve could tell, he didn’t carry any weapons, but Steve didn’t miss the syringe peeking out from the pocket of his pants. 

“I can’t,” Steve just said, although he didn’t know why he felt like arguing. Maybe all he was left with was spite. 

“Don’t worry about it,” earring-guy told him. “It just takes a while for them to get the dose right.” 

Obviously, that wasn’t reassuring at all. If anything it made Steve worry even more. How much stuff had they pumped into him already? 

“It’ll get easier once you start walking. Circulation and all,” earring-guy insisted. _Circulation and all_. It had gotten somewhat clear by now that these guards were nothing but muscle guys. Enforcers. Steve had his doubts that they knew anything besides what they saw doing their jobs. Which made him wonder, how many people had passed here before him. 

“I’m pretty sure there’s more than one broken bone in my foot,” Steve admitted. It was one thing to say it. To articulate the harm. But when the guy glanced down, it became an entirely different thing. And suddenly, Steve felt the urge to hide. To take it all back. Now it wasn't just a statement anymore. An inconvenience. Spite. Suddenly, it was weakness. And embarrassment. Suddenly, it was personal. And Steve didn't want that. He didn't want that guy in his space again. Didn't want to be looked at. Looked after. Cared for. 

They weren't caring for him. They were hurting him. 

“We’ve got to get you to the others,” earring-guy said. Orders, Steve thought. He knew about orders. He knew about orders from Bucky. They weren't to be messed with. Or delayed. They were only to be repeated, copied, confirmed. And then followed. 

“What did you do to them?” Steve asked, thinking that if the guy hadn't just yanked him up by now, he could risk asking more questions. Risk stalling until he saw a way out. An escape plan. 

“They’re fine,” was the only reply Steve got. _Fine_. “Come on now, Cap.” 

Don't call me that, Steve thought, but before he had time to protest, earring-guy, still crouching, did the half-hug thing again and suddenly they were both standing upright and Steve felt a wave of dizziness and nausea hit him in the guts and slap him across the face. For a second, he feared he would throw up, onto his bare feet, but the guy steadied him with a second hand just flat on Steve's chest and it all dissolved. What was left was that dull pain, was hurt everywhere, were aching limbs and organs. 

“There we go,” the guy instructed. “Now just one step after the other.” 

He nodded towards belt-guy who grunted and then moved to the door to hold it open. 

With every step, pain rushed through his body as if Steve had never in his life walked before. As if his body wasn't meant to carry his weight. They couldn't have though, could they? Could they have found a way to undo the effects of the serum? Was that what they were doing? Maybe everything on the inside of his body was shrinking. Was crumbling. The fear, the panic rippled through him and his legs gave in. 

Earring-guy's grip was tight though and he must have been prepared to catch Steve at the slightest slip. More likely though, he was prepared for Steve trying to bolt. 

Slowly, they made the way through the empty room, and then through another empty hallway in the same mint green shade with belt-guy walking behind them. When they reached the end of the corridor, it looked like some dead end. As if someone had just forgotten to build in a doorway. Behind Steve, belt-guy barked a series of numbers in what must have been a radio or a microphone. Some kind of code and Steve tried his best to replay the numbers in his head. 

The entire wall parted and gave way to the piercing white light that Steve was subjected to when he had first woken up. Immediately his eyes and temples were in shrieking pain. But this time he held his own. Blinking through the tortuous brightness until he could make out a second seemingly endless empty corridor. This one though, was painted in dark gray. 

The second the three of them had passed the threshold, the doorway was shut behind them and a voice either over a speaker on belt-guy's radio or somewhere above the doorway announced 'Gate passed, code changed’. 

So much for the usefulness of those damned numbers… 

The soles of his feet were numb by now. If from the drugs or the pain or the cold, Steve couldn't tell anymore. The way his body soaked up the heat that earring-guy provided at his side only added to the humiliation, making it a distinctly uncomfortable walk of shame. Steve needed to be done with it already. 

They were still walking when it happened. Steve was busy with pain. With the light that fucked with his sight. With his foot that still felt plain wrong. With the core strength that was still lacking, with his fear of fading organs and shrinking bones. 

Steve would have sworn that the syringe had been in earring-guy's right pocket. But it couldn't have been. Steve's left arm was draped over the guard's shoulder, the access device from the IV just above Steve's wrist that earring-guy was holding onto. With a tight grip. Tighter than Steve had noticed. Maybe that's why he never budged, no matter how often Steve's knees gave in. It all took just one second. The guy reached for the pocket on his left. With hauntingly confident skills, he uncapped the needle with his teeth and then inserted it into the connecting adapter at the end of the short IV tube. All with one hand, while the other kept Steve's forearm in place. 

"No," Steve said, but it was already done. Earring-guy didn't bother to recap the needle. He threw everything to the side. For belt-guy to clean it up after them. 

"It's just the right dose now," earring-guy assured him and forced Steve to keep going. 

"Right dose for what?" Steve asked. He felt fear and panic. But he didn't notice anything else happening right away. 

"Keep you from going rogue," the guy said. "Killing us all." 

Maybe you deserve it, Steve thought, but he knew better than to speak. 

"Look at the bright side," earring-guy went on. "You'll have company soon." 

They kept on walking. And with every step, Steve felt his body reacting to the drug. It didn't hurt as much as before, but he felt dizzy. Everything seemed to slow down. His mouth felt dry and numb but his tongue felt huge. He didn't know if he'd be able to still speak. He didn't try. Everything went blurry again. And it seemed as if they were walking too fast for Steve's brain to catch up. Like a train passing too fast. Those goddamn trains. 

"It'll wear off," he heard earring-guy say, but it didn't console Steve. For the first time since they had started walking, back in the mint green room, Steve held actively onto his guard. Tried to reach for his hand to know that he wasn't slipping. Wasn't tumbling. To know that everything was still real. That he was still real. 

They kept on going and Steve started to feel sick. He barely kept himself from gagging a couple of times, but there couldn't have been anything left in his body to come out. He was hungry. He was thirsty. Suddenly he felt it all. 

"Just get some sleep," he heard the familiar voice. It shouldn't be familiar by now. He hated it. 

But then he was put down. He felt like falling for miles, but wherever he landed, it wasn't the floor. No, this was nicer. This was almost gentle. Steve blinked trying to make out earring-guy's face. He was just there. Steve could have sworn. He had just been-, right there. 

Instead, there was someone in the distance. Watching him. Not too far. But so far away. Was it-? 

"Natasha?" Steve tried. He thought he saw some blonde hair. Thought he saw the idea of someone friendly. Thought he saw someone smile at him. 

"Dude," the woman just said. She didn't sound like Nat, her tone so indifferent. "I don't know you." 

So cruel. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

"Where am I?" Steve tried to ask, but he slurred and butchered all the words. He drifted off, waking up countless of times without knowing where he was, how much time had passed or whether he was still in a dream. 

At times, he was convinced he heard someone speak. To him, or about him, he couldn't say. Earring-guy? But there was more than one voice. Other guards? Their words passed, slid through him, disappeared. He could barely catch an entire sentence. Others blurred into incomprehensible nonsense. 

"-- okay to me--," someone said. Steve’s head felt too full to pick up any lines. Felt stuffed with jelly and white noise. Too full for new information. 

"-- seen -- mirror -- recently?” another voice replied. The woman, Steve remembered. It must be her. It sounded like her. Somewhat. Disrupted and distorted by more noise that Steve couldn’t place. It was unsettling. Agitating. 

"-- had to -- be so --," the other one said. “Think -- waking up.” The voice was different. Lower. Warmer. Maybe. Maybe it was wishful thinking. Wishing it was more familiar. For someone to call for him through the haze. Wishing for Bucky to return the favor. 

“You sure?” the woman asked. Suddenly almost clear. Steve frowned. He could feel the muscles pulling on his brows. Pulling him back to consciousness. Had it been him the entire time? Maybe he had been talking without knowing. 

Something nudged him by the foot and Steve suppressed a whimper. “Hey,” the other voice said. And this time Steve was almost sure that it wasn’t him speaking. Another nudge and Steve jerked his foot away. To get away from the pain. “Come on,” it said again. Another nudge. 

“Stop,” the word just fell from Steve’s mouth. The shock of it yanked him back into reality and from one moment to the next he was staring into another stranger’s face with wide-eyed outrage. Who looked back at him just as offended. 

“That’s cute,” the woman said. Her voice was clear and right there, but Steve had to furiously turn his head a couple of times before he could spot her in the corner behind him. She met his gaze head on, held it, forced Steve's into submission. 

“Told you,” the other said and pulled Steve's attention back on him. He didn’t look like one of the guards. In fact, he looked just as shitty as Steve felt. He was sweating so much that the shirt he was in had stains under his arms and on his chest. It was the same shirt Steve was forced in. His eyes were somewhat red as if he hadn’t been sleeping in days and he had some disturbing black lines right beneath his skin. All over his body, Steve guessed. All over the skin that was bare. Thin and veiny, but the lines seemed to move. To shift from time to time. 

“Who are you?” Steve asked, but he didn’t wait for an answer to scoot just a little further away from him. Better safe than sorry. 

“Eddie,” he said and shrugged. “Well, mostly,” he said then but didn’t seem to think it necessary to elaborate any further. “For now.” 

“I’m Steve,” Steve said with a careful nod and brought another inch of distance between them. He needed more time to process. Time and distance. Eddie didn't react. There was no way to tell for sure, if he recognized him. If he recognized Steve, but wanted to be polite. If he didn't care. Or if Eddie even knew about Captain America. ”Where are we?” 

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Eddie just said. “All we know is that we're here.” 

“Who?” Steve asked, trying to sit up. He didn’t feel any stronger than before, but he needed to get his head off the floor. He bit through the waves of pain and his revolting muscles, and pushed himself up with his arms. "Who got us trapped here?" 

“We’re not so sure,” Eddie said and glanced over Steve’s shoulder at the woman. “I’ve ran into some crazy lab guys before so-,” he paused. Turned his head as if he was hearing something. Then he scrunched up his face, seemingly not able to make sense of it. Then he turned back to Steve. “Maybe they’ve returned.” 

“Scientists,” Steve contemplated. Took a moment to consider Eddie. Maybe search for similarities. A trace of Bucky anywhere. “You ran into Hydra?” he asked then. 

“Hydra?” Eddie asked and shook his head. “Life Foundation," he corrected. 

Steve took his time to let it sink in. Hoping it would ring some bells. But it didn’t. When he noticed Eddie glance over to the corner again, he finally turned around too. 

“And who are you?” he asked the woman. She stood in the corner of their cell still. Dressed in the same shirt. In the same sweats as Steve. With a bare foot against the wall. From what he could tell, she didn't look hurt. Didn’t look fucked with. Not like Eddie and him. 

She cocked her head, looked him over. Unimpressed. In a manner not so different from Steve trying to figure out Eddie. She didn't know Steve, Steve didn't know them. Likely, all of them ran on instinct alone at the moment. He didn’t think she considered him a threat. Could she? In the state he was in? From what it felt like, Steve wondered if she was assessing his _worth_ instead. 

"Carol," she said eventually. Then not another word. 

"Know any evil scientists?" Steve asked, wishing she wouldn't just stand there and judge him. "By any chance?" he added awkwardly and much quieter. 

"You have no idea," Carol said. Her face was set in stone. She didn't move her body either. And while she seemed calm, Steve couldn't shake the thought that he was only one misstep away from getting punched in the face. 

"Care to share?" Steve offered although he had a feeling she wouldn't willingly tell him anything. Let alone crucial information. 

"How did you get here?" she asked instead, narrowing her eyes. 

"I don't remember," Steve admitted. It was a leap of faith. He hoped that if he showed himself willing to cooperate she might return the favor. Answer some of Steve's questions later. "I was with my friends," he told her. Them. Not wanting to explicitly state that they had been on the run. If these people didn't know he was a high profile fugitive, there was no need to spell it out. "Next thing I know is that I woke up here with a couple of broken bones and whatever they put into my bloodstream," he went on. "And everything between those two moments is just gone. Feels like there's a black hole right inside my head." 

"A black hole, huh," Carol said. She didn't seem to believe him. 

"I was at home," Eddie interjected. Relieved Steve of Carol's piercing gaze. When she looked over, her face softened ever so slightly. As if she was looking at something more innocent than Steve. Something that invoked just the right mixture of fondness and the urge to protect. And a tiny splash of bitter pity. 

"So they knew where you live," Steve concluded the obvious. Before Eddie had a chance to comment, Carol spoke up again. 

"That's not what's important," she said. "They knew who you are. That's why you're here. Because of who you are. That's why I am here," she added and then fell silent. Finally stepped away from the wall only to circle closer to Steve like a hyena. 

He looked up at her, trying to make himself smaller. Trying to invoke the same softer look on her that she seemed to have reserved only for Eddie. Someone with a similar built than Steve. Someone with fewer injuries. Someone with strange black veins who seemed to hear things that weren't there. Steve had no clue what it was about him instead that offended Carol. What it was about Eddie that appeased her. 

"So that begs the question," she said and stopped just a feet away from Steve. With her knees on his eye level. He knew she could knock him out with a kick to his jaw any second. "Who are you?" 

"What do you mean?" he asked, played dumb. Just because they were stuck here together, didn't mean that they were on the same side. 

"Come on, Steve," she said and spoke his name as if the idea of anyone to be called that was utterly ridiculous to her. "You host one of those ugly symbiotes as well?" 

"One of those-," Steve started. Broke off. Flabbergasted. He wasn't sure if he'd heard right. There was still an annoying ringing in his ear. Distant but maddening. "Ugly what?" 

"Hello," Eddie jumped in. "We're literally right here. No need to be rude," he told Carol and crossed his arms in front of his body. "I don't think he does. Just look at him. He'd be worse off. Maybe he's your long lost brother instead. You kinda look alike." 

"Now you're just being mean," Carol said with a smirk. Eddie returned it with a dumb grin that Steve was anything but fond of. 

"I'm Captain America," Steve said finally, trying to gain some ground on these two. 

"Captain who now?" Eddie asked, squinting his eyes at Steve. 

"America," Steve said again. "Avenger initiative? Sokovia papers? Ring a bell?" 

Carol and Eddie looked at each other for a moment and then they both shrugged. 

"Battle of New York?" Steve tried, but they still looked at him as if he was insane. "You're from here, right?" he asked somewhat desperate. "Are you? From here?" He should have thought about the possibility before. That maybe they were different. Like Thor maybe. From a different world. 

"Hey, maybe people have their own shit to deal with, alright?" Eddie started while Carol just watched the whole scene unfold. "You East coasters always ride that high horse. Have I heard of the battle of New York before? I guess. Does that mean I have to keep up with you lot? No, man. I went through a difficult time, okay? I got a parasite, man. I had my own aliens to deal with. Do you think other people's lives just go on hold, because a group of weirdos show up and _save the world_?" He put the phrase 'save the world' in quotation marks with his fingers. "Newsflash boy, they don't." 

He stopped there and the whole speech seemed to have sucked even more sweat out of him. With a not so subtle headshake, he walked past Steve to the corner where Carol had been standing before and slumped down to the ground. 

When Steve turned to Carol she looked amused. "And I've been-," she started, paused for a moment and then said, "away." 

“Away?” Steve echoed. “Away where?” 

“What’s the Avenger initiative?” Carol asked instead. Within an instant she was her serious self again. Entirely focused on Steve and he’d be damned if there wasn’t some genuine curiosity shining through her interrogation. 

“A group of people,” Steve started, feeling the urge to please her with his answers. “With certain abilities. Trying to do the right thing. Trying to do some good. Trying to protect.” 

She narrowed her eyes again at him, further assessment, further consideration. “Do you know Fury?” she asked then and suddenly Steve sat up a little straighter and with more ease. 

“Yes,” he said right away. “He’s the one who found me. Well, he dug me out of the ice.” 

Carol raised her eyebrows at him. A silent question. 

“Long story,” Steve waved her off. He liked this. Being unknown. Being someone new. With a story to tell that wasn't heard before. That was his alone and not retold by the history books. His alone to share. He liked having this. “How do you know him?” 

“We helped each other out,” Carol just said. A little smile played around her lips. Very small. The thought of a smile. “It was a long time ago." She visibly put the memories aside. "And what makes you an avenger?” 

“I’m-,” Steve tried looking for a reasonable word, but didn’t manage to come up with anything better than, “a supersoldier,” he told her. “I guess that’s what they call me.” 

“He really is your long lost brother,” Eddie said from his spot by the wall. “Told you, he wasn’t like me.” 

“What does that mean?” Steve wondered. Spoke gently, because he knew from experience how some origin stories were wrapped in pain. And abuse. And tragedy. “Being like you?” 

“Eddie has an alien symbiote,” Carol cut in. “They’re one of the most interesting species in the entire universe. Eddie is the only human I’ve ever seen to be a host. Although, he said there were others, too.” 

“But they’re all dead now,” Eddie finished. “All the hosts. And the other symbiotes that were on earth. They died. Venom is the last one.” 

“Venom?” Steve asked confused. 

“That’s what he’s called,” Eddie explained. “Well what he calls himself. What he calls us.” 

“Is that why you look-” Steve didn't know how to phrase it politely. "Like that? With those black lines under the skin?" He knew he was being naive. 

“Yeah, but it’s not usually like this,” Eddie said. “It’s usually different. Very different. Scarier. But also way cooler.” 

“Okay," Steve just said with no idea what he should try to imagine. "Why different from now? What’s going on now?” 

“Don’t you hear it?” Carol asked. Tilting her head. Eddie fell silent too and put on a pained expression. 

“Hear what?” Steve tried to catch what they were talking about. But he lacked focus. His ears were still plugged with the white noise of his drug infested bloodstream. He had trouble hearing on the side that had been bleeding anyway. 

“The sound,” she just said. “That high-pitch frequency. It used to change every couple of hours in the beginning, but it’s been this steady for days now.” 

“I thought that was my head,” Steve admitted. “It’s-,” he started. Failed. Didn’t know how to put it. “The drugs. They messed with my head. With everything.” 

“These frequencies, they’re supposed to keep Venom contained,” Eddie said. “They hurt him. Me. Us. That shit can kill us, you know. Can separate us. Which would kill Venom if he wouldn't find a suitable host fast enough. Guess it could kill me too depending on what injuries I don't know of yet.” 

“They want him in pain, but they don’t want to kill him,” Steve guessed. “Don’t want to kill you.” Eddie nodded at that. “What about you?” Steve wondered, looking at Carol. 

“About me?” she asked right back. 

“What did they do to you?” It was a difficult question to ask. Difficult, because it weighed heavily in the pit of Steve's stomach. He had to ask too many times. Ask people who didn't deserve to have answers to it. “To hurt you. Your powers.” 

“There was an explosion,” Carol recalled. “I was trying to rescue this ship and then,” she opened her hands to mimic the blast. 

"This ship?” Steve asked. He had a vague idea where this was going, but he needed to hear it from her directly. 

"This spaceship," Carol told him. "Close to your planet." There it was. That was apparently where this was going. Space. Because why not?! 

“The explosion," Carol went on, "there was something in it. I’ve never seen anything like it. And I must have absorbed it. At first, I thought it by accident. Then I woke up here and,” she took a second to reconsider opening up. But to Steve's surprise, she decided to keep going. “And they sometimes put me in this room or whatever it is, this special cell, and it happens again. An explosion. The absorbing. They did it three times already. That was before Eddie arrived.” 

“And how often since?” Steve asked carefully. 

“Only once,” she said. 

“They were trying to get the dosage right,” Steve figured. “Like they did with the sounds. With the drugs. They said it took them a while to figure out the right amount. Though, I only remember one time they inserted it. Right before they threw me in here with you." Slowly but surely, some things came together. Started to make sense. "But that wasn't the first time," he went on. Almost rambled. To himself more than the others. Trying to make the pieces fit. He glanced down to the bruises on both his arms. "At first, I thought they couldn't find a vein to use. That they tried over and over and that that's where the bruises came from. But it was the other way around. They have always found a vein. But they never got the dose right. And the veins, I don't know, collapsed." 

Carol watched him talk with some compassion. Maybe not with the same warm look that she had reserved for Eddie and his demons. Demon. But she felt his pain and he could tell. He even felt comforted by it when he looked up at her. 

"They need us to be weak, but they need us to be alive," he concluded his train of thought. A conclusion that was probably obvious to the others by now. 

“I don’t care if they want us to live or die,” Carol just said, but her tone wasn't cold. “I want to get out. Get away from this place.” 

"I don't think there's an argument here," Steve guessed, turned to glance over to Eddie who looked as miserable as before. 

"Whatever your plan is, man," he said, voice fried and tired, "I'm on board." 

But that was the thing though, wasn't it? Steve didn't have a plan. He closed his eyes for a second, suddenly exhausted from all the information and rubbed his hands over his face. His body was a painful wreck and his brain was still somewhat out of order. 

The cell they were kept in was pretty much the same room he woke up in. Instead of mint green, it was gray though. Like the hallway he had passed with the guards. 

That was it. There was nothing in it. No sink, no bed, no toilet. Steve frowned, forced his eyes back open and looked back and forth between Carol and Eddie. 

"How long have you been here?" he asked. 

They looked at him clueless, not getting what he was asking. 

"You said the noise had been steady for days, but you haven't been in this exact room for days, right?" Steve pressed. 

"There are different cells," Eddie told him and shrugged. "They all look the same, so it's different to tell the time if that's what you're asking." 

"Where do you eat?" Steve asked impatiently. "Where do you sleep? Where do you pee?” he added and felt just a little bit of heat rise to his cheeks. 

"There are different cells," Eddie said again. 

"Different cells with different purposes?" Steve tried to clarify. They definitely needed to work on their communication. All three of them. 

Eddie nodded though. 

“This one doesn't seem to have any other purpose than for us to meet," Steve said. He didn't miss the glance Carol and Eddie exchanged, but he wanted to get his thoughts out first without being interrupted. Wanted to get his thoughts out without getting confused before he even had a shot to get some of them in order. "There must be a reason for them to throw us in here together."  He waltzed theories back and forth through the goo in his head. Trying to make sense of this. “This is a risk they took. This can’t be a mistake. Where were you before?" 

"A different cell," Eddie just said and held up his hands as if Steve was being deliberately frustrating with his stupid questions. As if Steve was the one not getting it. 

"Together?" Steve asked. 

"Yes, together," Carol confirmed. She wasn't as frustrated. She was bored. 

"A different cell with a place to sleep and a bathroom?" Steve spelled it out again. 

"Well, it's not like an apartment," Eddie said almost offended. "Although I guess New Yorkers have different standards." 

"And when Eddie first got here?" Steve went on, looking at Carol. He ignored the comment. He had his own thoughts about people from California. Where Eddie undoubtedly came from. "Was it a room like this where you met?" 

Carol nodded. 

"For how long where you kept in a cell like this when you first met?" Steve asked. Just threw all his questions out there. 

"Long," Carol just said. Looked over at Eddie who didn't care to add any thoughts. 

"And then what?" Steve wondered, getting annoyed now too with how slow this conversation was going. "Those two guards came back in and just walked you out?" 

"Two guards?" Carol asked, throwing him a weird look. 

"Those two that took me here," Steve said, thinking it was obvious. 

"You really think we couldn't handle two guards?" Carol asked and then genuinely smiled at Eddie who returned it. "Maybe those two walked you over when you were barely conscious," she went on, "or maybe those two were the only ones you noticed. Because when that door was opened to throw you in, about fifteen of them walked in, armed to their teeth to make sure we didn't move an inch." 

"They always send at least fifteen," Eddie told him. "They shot me in the leg once. Turned down the music for a while after to let it heal." He pointed up into the air that was still filled with the buzzing noise. "Guess they didn't want me to bleed out." 

Steve was left just assuming that the symbiote was necessary for those kind of wounds to heal. Or at least had a positive influence on Eddie's abilities to regenerate. 

"They're not playing around," Carol stated. "They don't hesitate. They walk in with bats and guns and teasers. They'll hit you even before they tell you what you did wrong." 

"They'll hit you even before they tell you what they want from you," Eddie corrected. "They hit you preemptively." 

Not all of them Steve thought, an automatic response, but he immediately felt ashamed for it. He hadn't been lucky for Earring-guy to be talkative. None of this came in shades of gray. It was all wrong. 

"So, what is this place for?" he asked, deflecting from his own thoughts. "I saw that look earlier. You guys know something, don't you?" 

"I really don't think you should know," Carol told him. Her expression didn't change, although Steve thought he saw her shoulders tense up. 

Steve really should have seen this coming. He was usually more attentive. Wasn't as eager to trust anymore. To trust in the good of people. These two weren't to be trusted. "And why is that?" he asked. 

Carol looked to Eddie instead. Refused to say another word. Refused to grant Steve even another glance. 

"And why is that?" Steve asked again, turning to Eddie now too for answers. 

"This is just to see if I'll kill you," Eddie said, avoiding Steve's eyes. "Well, if Venom will kill you." 

"But the-," Steve said confused. Scared. Pointed up in the air as well. 

"They'll turn it off," Carol said, locking eyes with Eddie. 

"Why?" Steve asked. It came out a lot weaker than what he was going for. 

"We don't know," Carol said. Shrugged. 

Anger built up in Steve. At her. For not even looking him in the eye. For not even suggesting defending him. Protecting him. At Eddie for pretending he didn't have a say in who he'll kill. 

"That happened before?" Steve asked, this time his voice was back with full force. "He didn't kill you," Steve answered his own question. "Why are you here with us then?" 

"Guess, I'll get a second round," she said and finally met Steve's gaze. 

"I won't just sit here and be killed," he announced angrily. "Tell me what's going to happen." 

"Look, Steve," Carol just said, she seemed annoyed with him too. "There's nothing you can do. He'll turn into a freaking black monster and either he'll eat you or he won't." 

Eddie nodded at that with raised eyebrows and a sigh on his lips. What an asshole. 

"A monster," Steve echoed but mostly to himself. "Great. Any advice then?" 

"Maybe no sudden movements?" Carol suggested but her tone was full of sarcasm. 

"So now you'll just wait?" Steve asked. "This is how it's going to be? How about you try real hard this time, not to turn into a monster," he said to Eddie. 

"You don't get how it works," Eddie said dismissively. 

"Then explain it to me," Steve offered, forced his voice to soften. "Please." 

"This state," Eddie started. He looked a little insecure. Shy even. Or maybe just ashamed that he'll let whatever symbiotic creature he was harboring eat Steve alive. "That we're in right now, it's not healthy. Obviously. It's more of a reflex. It's like waking from a coma and stretching your legs. He needs it. Hell, I need it. Do you think I always sweat like this?" 

"How come you weren't eaten?" Steve wondered, ignoring Eddie's question in favor of getting some info from Carol. "What did you do?" 

"We just had a nice chat," Carol said and shrugged. "Guess my body isn't as easily digestible as a plain human snack." 

"Which is what I am right now," Steve said. "Fantastic." 

"You'll be fine," Carol told him. 

"Really?" Steve asked, eyebrows raised although all the muscles in his face and forehead hurt from it. "Is this how you're trying to console me?" There was a moment of what felt like clarity. And Steve tried raising his eyebrows again. Tried scrunching his nose, thinking it had an effect on his senses. That somehow it pulled him further into the world. Cleared some of the dull and limited perspective. But the look on Carol's face told him differently. 

It wasn't his body fighting the drugs. It was the noise that was suddenly gone. 

Panicked, Steve turned to Eddie who was already feeling it coming. The transformation. 

Those black veins came to life at once. Stretched and grew and slung around Eddie's arm, ready to engulf him. A seemingly endless amount of black mass piled onto Eddie's skin, a thick smooth surface that glistered as if wet. And before he could even register the shaping form, Steve was staring into a grotesque face of empty white eyes and a devious grin baring razor-sharp teeth. 

"Hello, Steve," the creature said in a low distorted voice and with a fleshy, muscular tongue that reminded Steve of a lizard and caused Venom to speak with the slightest lisp. "Captain," Venom paused, seemingly for no other reason than dramatic effect. "America," he finished and grinned at Steve. Although, Steve figured that, much like a dolphin, this was just how he looked and that Venom's facial expressions were rather limited. 

Steve nodded, didn't dare to speak for his throat felt terribly dry. 

"Eddie thinks you have a nice face," Venom just said as if this was nothing but a casual conversation. "He thinks Carol has a nice face too." 

"I'm-," Steve stammered, not knowing what to reply. He turned to find Carol, but she had stepped behind him with her back against the wall. It surprised Steve to see her like that but he couldn't blame her for her fear. His own hands were shaking. "I'm flattered?" 

"I-," Venom started and hissed with his bizarre tongue between his teeth. "I think you smell funny," he told him. "Unpleasant," he added and pronounced the 't' extra sharp. 

"I'm full of drugs," Steve said, the words just slipped right out of him. He really didn't want to end up in this creatures mouth. Or stomach. Or whatever digestion tract the alien symbiote came with. 

"Sometimes that just adds the extra spice," Venom informed him with a slightly bigger grin than before. Maybe this time it was genuine amusement. Or a really good memory that came to mind. 

This really wasn't going to be Steve's day. 

"You've been tampered with," Venom stated. He cocked his head in a way that reminded Steve of Carol. And if she knew, she'd probably help Venom prepare the meal. 

"I have," Steve said, his voice was too shrill, mostly because he had forgotten to breathe for the past three minutes. "It was a long time ago." 

"I don't like it," Venom said and licked his teeth for a lack of lips. Then he opened his mouth for a wider grin before he pulled his jaws apart. 

There was a loud gasp behind Steve, it was Carol, and only then Steve realized that this was it. That he was going to die. 

His heart was hammering, echoes of every panicked beat in every part of him. The adrenaline numbed the pain, but it didn't numb his shock. He could feel his body, feel every muscle, prepare for its last fight. 

With strength he wasn't supposed to have, wasn't supposed to bring out, with no resources or health to gather it from, and strength that was purely produced by will that pulled a horrifying cry out of his throat, Steve shifted his weight, forced his knees under his body and then forced them to straighten. Despite the pain. Despite the fire that tore through his body, through his joints, he forced his body to stand on broken bones, forced his spine upright. 

His mouth was still open, still releasing a barely human scream when Venom stumbled back, head rolling in to take cover. Steve curled his fists, pulled them up to his chin, regardless of whether that needle punctured right through his vein and filled his arm with blood, where there were supposed to be none, pressure building from his racing heart. 

But it wasn't Steve's scream that forced Venom into submission, it was the high-pitched buzz that was turned on again. That created chaos on the outside, on top of the chaos internal to Steve. It was still going, shrieking, wheezing, long after Steve's voice had given in. 

Venom faltered, fizzled, strung from Eddie's body in small threads before they retreated under the skin, into trembling black filaments that turned sluggish and slowed until they stilled and Eddie, who was just stood right in front of Steve, dropped to the ground unconscious. 

And then hell broke loose when a barricade of armoured and armed guards broke through the door to target Carol and Steve with relentless blows from heavy bats or unyielding blunt ends of automatic rifles. 

Steve hit the ground just a couple of seconds after Eddie, but through the fields of black boots he caught Carol still holding her own. Even still, the second Steve caught the blow that knocked him out for good. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

He was already tired of it. Tired of waking up. Trying to figure it out all over again. All Steve wanted at this moment was to be allowed to stay fucking conscious for twelve consecutive hours or so. He was sick of feeling heavy and groggy. 

He was sick of not being able to lift his lids. Sick of the blinding lights and the blurry vision. Of not being able to focus on anything without his eyes burning and tearing up. He needed a moment that was void of headaches and that continuous ringing in his ear. 

As usual, Steve tried to move, tried to get a sense of his surroundings. No matter how limited. His hands were cuffed to his side and he was lying on his back. On something cold and firm. Something that felt distinctively different from waking up on the floor. Not at all better though. 

“Our best guess is that it’s the serum,” someone said. They sounded far away from Steve. “It altered his DNA. And now the symbiote rejects him. Rejects the serum. It doesn’t consider him a fit host. Just food, apparently.” 

“We knew that was a possibility,” a second voice replied. Still far away. “We are prepared for that possibility.” 

“Sir, we could still try and find another one,” the first voice argued. “There are more. We know there are more like him. It might just be a better solution.” 

“They are not like him,” the second one said in a firm almost threatening voice. “No one is like him. I don’t need a second alien. Or unpredictable characters. I don’t want agents, assassins, spies.” 

“What about the asset?” the first one asked and Steve turned his head to put his ear that half inch closer to where the voices came from. A shiver ran down his spine and he could feel his throat tighten. This was Hydra. These were Hydra agents. This was a Hydra operation. “The asset is similar to him. Maybe not exactly like him. But similar enough. I’m sure we can retrieve it within a couple of weeks.” 

“I don’t want the asset,” the other one said. There was anger building up in the voice. “I want to use what’s ours.” Steve frowned as he kept listening. _Ours_ . But the asset _was_ Hydra’s. “He is ours,” the voice kept going. Talking about things Steve didn’t want to hear. But things he had to force himself to take in regardless. All of it. Remember it all when the time came. When he needed the information. When he could finally use it. 

Steve wasn’t Hydra’s. Steve was Erskine’s. Steve was Bucky’s. Steve was Peggy’s. Steve was Fury’s. Steve was Stark’s before he was Hydra’s. Maybe this wasn't Hydra after all. 

“He’s perfect,” the voice added and Steve almost gagged. “He’s human still. Just human. Perfectly enhanced. He was never made to kill. To take orders. This one-,” the voice went on, sounding closer now. Steve held his breath. He didn’t want that person any closer to him. “This one was made to lead.” 

Something -- someone -- brushed over the skin on Steve’s naked shoulder. A shock that made him inevitably jerk his arm, trying to pull away from the touch. But he couldn’t. Cuffed to where his body was spread out, he couldn’t. And then there was laughter. From both of them. 

“Look who’s awake,” one of them said, but Steve couldn’t distinguish them anymore. He felt sick and he wanted to get away. “I’ll leave you to it then,” Steve heard one of them say. “Get everything ready. I’ll take care of the symbiote.” And then the hand was gone and there were footsteps moving away. _Take care of the symbiote._ Whatever relief Steve felt at first was replaced by worry. Fear. Nausea. 

“This is only going to take a sec,” the person remaining told him, leaving Steve to pull on his cuffs again. Trying to twist his body away, away from it all. He was panting, in fear. In terror. A bodily plea to let him be. No more pain. No more drugs. No more sleep. No more passing out and waking up. 

He whimpered. He tried to scream, but there was something on his mouth. In his mouth. He screamed despite it. Despite the muffled sounds that his pitiful body produced. Those pathetic cries that never moved past his throat. He held his eyes open through the light. Through the tears and the blur. It was impossible for Steve to focus. It wasn’t just his eyes now. It was his fear. He didn’t want to look. 

It all came to him as snippets. Snapshots in between white screens. White screams. That person in scrubs. The IV access. Same spot, different arm. And a connected line. The heavy bag filled with clear fluid on a hanger right next to him. His bruised foot at the end of the table. 

“Do you have to be so useless?” that person asked, while Steve stared. In wide-eyed indignation. In fear and rage and stress. He was not useless. But then they kept talking. Talking to someone who wasn’t Steve. “Can you at least hold him down for that one actual second I need to do my work.” There were others in the room. 

More footsteps. And Steve was terrified. Barely holding it together now. He was struggling against the taut straps, against unyielding chains. It hit him although he knew. Although, he knew what they did. It hit him, because managing to stand hadn’t been a hero’s act. It hit him that he was weak. For the first time in years. The first time in centuries. He was weak. 

“Hey, Cap, don’t mind me.” It was earring-guy right back in his personal space. The scent of his cologne. A hand on either side of Steve’s shoulders. And then he was pushing him down with all his body weight. 

There were other guards. Steve was sure of it. There had to be. That’s what Eddie and Carol said. At least fifteen. They always send at least fifteen. 

But they didn’t show. Not in Steve’s sight. No glimpse. No shimmer, no shadow in his peripheral vision. Just earring-guy looking down on him. Not looking him in the eyes though. He avoided looking Steve in the eyes. Instead, he glanced from Steve’s chin down to his chest, then up his chin again, maybe to Steve’s running nose. Maybe to the tears that barely touched his cheeks, but ran down his temples instead. Maybe to his mouth that cried out through the gag. 

He licked his lips. Earring-guy was nervous. Again. There was sweat above his cupid’s bow. Had Steve noticed before how young he looked. Twenty-three? Twenty-five? His hair was messy and he had eyes like Peggy. Lips like Peggy. Eyes like Peggy. Warm caramel. Not blue like Bucky’s. But he had Bucky’s hands. Bucky’s arms. Bucky’s shoulders. He was strong like Bucky. Buck before the war. 

Steve had to shut his eyes to get away from him. From them. 

Maybe he was close enough to surrendering. Maybe he was already stepping into it. But he didn’t have to find out. He didn’t have to find out just how weak he had become. Because when the hem of his shirt was pulled up, stuffed just over his navel, he bucked right back up. Fought his cuffs and screamed his silenced pain right into earring-guy’s face. Forced him to see it this time. All the fear and terror. The neverending distress. 

“Just make it quick,” earring-guy urged on the person in scrubs. “I don’t want him to pass out again.” 

That fucking sentence pulled Steve out of his fit for an irritating second. It was like someone had just hit pause. He didn’t want him to pass out again. And Steve was flooded with gratefulness over a throw-away statement. It was meaningless, but there and then, it meant the world to Steve. 

A hand moved over Steve’s stomach, fingers wrapped in surgical gloves. Trying to find just the right spot. “As if a little more belly fat would hurt,” they said to themself. Probing, pressing, pinching. “Guess, we’ll just have to make it work.” 

And then they punched the needle in. 

It was over within the second. In and out. And all that was left was a warm, tingly feeling just on the side of Steve’s belly button. The sound of his hoarse throat and his heavy breaths. The thud of his head hitting the table in defeat. 

“I’ll take him off the line and then all you have to do is jerk him off and bring him back to the others.” That’s all that person said, before starting to fumbling around Steve’s arm. Obviously, trying to disconnect the IV line. Steve was shaking, but he was held firmly in place. It didn’t hurt too bad. Just felt sore. Sore like every part of his body. 

“Wait wha-? What?” earring-guy forced out. There was more sweat now on his face. There was sweat now on Steve’s face. He couldn’t even grasp the meaning of those words. 

“Look,” the scrubs-person said. “Do I have to get all medical? I injected the hormones. The fertility treatment to enhance the amount of available sperm cells. The formula contains medication that makes it easier for us to recalibrate the DNA before the merging. His body will adjust. But the process of spermatogenesis takes approximately seventy-five days to complete. That’s for a regular human though. He should do faster, but then we slowed him down. So it’s more of a guessing game. With the fertilizer speeding things up again, we’re estimating it’ll take about ten to fifteen days. We still need all of the disposable sperm out of the way. Obviously.” 

“Can- can’t you do it?” earring-guy stammered helplessly. What a poor little bastard. There was no time to loathe him now. Steve had to make mental notes. Steve had to remember this. Even if he’d be knocked out again. Steve had to make a goddamn plan for his escape. His. And Carol’s and Eddie’s. Theirs. 

“Do you think I went to med school for this?” the other said. “What do you think you guys are for? Don’t worry though. Give it two weeks and then I’ll do it myself. Can’t risk you losing or contaminating the cells. I don’t want all this to have been for nothing.” 

“There’s a different way though, right?” earring-guy asked and Steve instinctively tried to curl from his grip. He knew that different ways were worse ways. 

“I don’t have time for this,” the doctor, nurse, fertility expert, whatever said. “There’s an easy enough procedure at hand.” A humiliating pause. No one laughed. “So,” they went on. “You better get to it. Gloves and lube are over there. I’ll take over once we start collecting.” 

Then they disappeared from Steve’s sight. More footsteps. Then a door. And then only earring-guy’s breath on Steve’s forehead. He stared into empty space for a long, lost moment, before he looked down and met Steve’s gaze. He had red, flushed spots on his cheeks, but his eyes were determined and he seemed to have collected himself in his silence. 

“If I let you do it, will you promise to just do it? No backtalk, no punches, no idiotic heroics?” he asked Steve. He asked Steve and he was being serious. Asking for a promise. 

A promise. 

That kid was so dumb, it hurt Steve to witness it. 

It itched Steve to shake his head no. Not because he was opposed to whatever deal was on the table. But because he didn’t want to participate at all. He didn’t want this to happen at all. But he held back his instinct. Tried to follow earring-guy’s example of finding composure. 

Tried to remember who he was and what he had been through. Crises were meant to be handled. Fights were meant to be faced. Wars were meant to be survived. 

And although, bad guys weren’t meant to be bargained with, in the end, he nodded. Not in submission. But in agreement. Nodded just once but earring-guy mirrored him immediately. 

There was his promise. 

“Don’t know if you’re a lefty, but I guess that’s what we’ll have to work with today,” he said, moving to Steve’s side. While earring-guy worked on releasing the cuff on Steve’s wrist, Steve braced himself for more pain. For pain and idiotic heroics. 

The second his left hand was free, he reached over and yanked the needle from his right arm with no hesitation. He was lucky that they had secured it with less tape than before, so it came out easy enough. Easy enough considering what it could have been. How it could have hurt. His arm still bled and the shock of the pain still wrenched through Steve’s entire body like crashing into ice. Again. 

He held up the needle against earring-guy like a knife, who stepped back from the table holding his hands up. Now it was up to Steve to make quick decisions. His right arm was still cuffed to the table and so were both his legs. In order to free himself, he needed to put down his weapon. But the second he would put down his weapon, earring-guy would call for backup. No doubt about it. The only thing keeping him from using his radio now was most likely the fact that he couldn’t be sure that Steve wasn’t exceptionally talented in playing darts. Now, earring-guy needed to put distance between them. Which he was trying to do by stepping back. Slowly. Carefully. His hands still up. 

“You know how this is going to go right?” earring-guy asked. Maybe he wasn’t as dumb as Steve thought. “You got what? Thirty seconds left? Put that thing down, I’ll fix your arm, we get this over with and no one needs to know what happened. No punishment.” 

Steve didn’t want to be knocked out again. The mere thought of it made his eyes well up. But he didn’t know exactly how to surrender. How to submit. And comply. How to give up. 

His breaths were coming fast. From the stress, the exasperation. Fast and rough. And his lungs felt too small. His nose felt too small. He couldn’t breathe properly, but even worse he couldn’t speak. He couldn’t negotiate. Not with that thing in his mouth. On his mouth. 

With a knuckle he pointed to the gag, held eye contact with earring-guy. Pleaded with his brows, with the tears in his eyes. Pleaded for some compassion. And even forgiveness for he was nothing but an animal that was cornered. That took advantage of whatever last resort presented itself. 

“You want that thing off, I’ll take it off,” earring guy said. _Promised._ “Let go of the needle and no one needs to know. No one gets hurt.” He knew what he’d said but there was pride in that kid too. He wouldn’t correct himself. Not in front of Steve. 

It wasn’t without a substantial amount of self-loathing that Steve let his grip loosen and the needle drop to the floor. Earring-guy exhaled in relief, but kept his hands up for just a moment longer. Didn’t bother to surge forward or lunge at Steve. 

He remained calm. Maybe he was expecting some degree of non-compliance from Steve anyway. Maybe this still had been part of the promise. Steve could only hope. 

“I’ll get that now, okay?” earring-guy announced and Steve thought he would bend down for the needle. But all he did, somewhat similar to the last time they were forced together, was kicking the needle somewhere behind him. For someone else to clean up. 

Instead, he carefully stepped back into Steve’s space, glancing down to the gag and lifting his hands. Steve closed his eyes, expecting nothing and everything. Mostly pain. 

But to his surprise, with quick hands, earring-guy opened the clasps on the back of Steve’s neck. With a swift motion he pulled it off and threw it to the side as well. Steve didn’t even had a chance to look at it. Or figure out the technicalities of its design. 

He just swallowed, felt along his teeth with his tongue. Just to be sure. 

“Can I take care of that, too?” earring-guy asked, nodding towards Steve’s other arm. 

This time, Steve shook his head, he didn’t want anyone near his body. 

“I’ll just get you something to wipe the blood off, okay? Get you a bandaid. That’s gonna turn into a nasty bruise.” He was already up and about while he kept talking. Wetting what looked like some sort of oversized cotton ball. “You have to press that on the vein. To stop the bleeding,” he said. Then he handed it to Steve. And Steve did as he was told, struggling with arranging his restrained body parts in ways that didn’t give him a flaring back pain while earring-guy drowned another cotton ball in sanitizer. “Can I?” he asked. “Just to get the blood off. You keep pressing until the bleeding stops.” 

Steve nodded. Let that guy wipe the blood off. With long elegant fingers around Steve’s own that he kept in place, shaking, but with firm pressure. Being this close, Steve noticed the earpiece for the first time. It was black, and fitted. Like the ones he and Natasha liked for communication. 

“Is backup on the way?” Steve asked, almost touched by his own tragedy. 

Earring-guy threw him a questioning look. Shook his head. Then Steve glanced at his ear again. 

“Those neutralize the frequencies,” he said and tapped against the earpiece with one knuckle. Cotton balled up between fingers and thumb. They weren't so different after all. “It’s on everywhere,” earring guy, went on. “Security reasons.” 

“Oh,” Steve just said and nodded. He could use a pair of those. 

“I’ll get you some tape,” earring-guy said. Deflected. “To keep that compressed.” He knew. He knew once more about the things he shouldn’t have said. Not so casually. Not if he was committed to this trust. That he seemed to hold onto regardless. Regardless of the power he exercised without a second thought as well. If he had doubts about what he was part of, Steve couldn't see any. Could only see attempts to do right by every side. As if that was possible. 

“Thanks,” Steve said. A reflex. He watched earring guy fix his cuffed arm. Nothing to be grateful for. No reason to be polite. At least now that Steve had his one free hand back he could support his upper body a little more. “Where are you going to put it in next?” he wondered quietly. Staring down at his arm. At the bruises that were mirrored on the other side too. Feeling for what is body has been through as if it wasn’t his. As if he was merely watching from the outside. Watching a hurting animal. Watching a tortured creature. “The veins on my hands?” he asked, looking up at earring-guy. He didn’t feel brave as he did it. But there was courage in asking for truth. There was courage in asking. “Or right in the neck?” 

Earring-guy took his time and a long breath before he spoke. He patted Steve’s arm awkwardly as he did. “You’ll be off it for now,” he just said. “Two weeks or so.” 

“And then?” Steve asked. “What’s next? What’s all this for?” 

Earring-guy shook his head. Steve had already resigned hope for an answer, so he was surprised when there was apparently more that earring-guy wanted to share. “This is happening either way,” he told Steve. So much for hope. “It can be you,” he went on. “With me, facing the other way. Or it can be me, with about ten other guys holding you down. Being your audience. Which is it going to be, Cap?” 

“Don’t call me that,” Steve refused this time. 

“We’re not exactly on a first name basis, right?” earring-guy said. Did Steve wish they were? No. Did he want to know that he even had a name? No. “Just trying to be civil.” 

“Civil,” Steve echoed. “Nothing about this is civil.” 

“What’s it going to be then, Captain?” earring-guy corrected. He was losing his patience. Maybe time was limited. Maybe he had to report back. Deal with Steve and then move onto a different task. 

Steve laid back down. His back was killing him. His stomach hurt. From the needle. From whatever they put in him this time. Next to him, earring-guy relaxed. Took it for the answer he’d been waiting for. Wordlessly, he turned and grabbed a couple of tissues with the bottle of lube. Then he moved around the table and tucked everything into Steve’s left hand. Walked himself a couple of steps out of Steve’s eyesight. Maybe kept his back turned like he promised. 

With the silence that spread then, the muscles in Steve’s face wouldn’t obey him anymore. He was about to lose it. His face turned into a deformed grimace. His lips were shaking. There were tears in his eyes, the salt burned in the scrapes he caught in the recent beating, despite how tight he kept them shut. So tight that it hurt. And he curled his fingers around the plastic so tight that it hurt. And his chest felt so tight that it hurt. And his throat felt so tight that it hurt. 

There was no autopilot for this. Not like this. Not when he was scared, aching down to his soul. Not when he felt this used. Abused. Not when he felt this cold. And abandoned. 

He stuffed the tissues halfway under his t-shirt, hands shaking and quietly sobbing. He used his thumb to squeeze out some lube, made a mess there on the table. Slid his hand past the waistband. For that last bit of privacy. Of dignity. 

The insides of his sweats were soft, tender seams against the back of his hand. He only noticed now. They were different from the used up ones at home. Worn and washed a hundred of times since he had been brought back. The used up ones in his backpack. That backpack that had become home. The sweats that Bucky wore, when Steve didn’t. Or Sam. Or Natasha. He missed them now. 

He tried to put himself there. With his friends. With their voices. Their laughter. It wasn’t the place to put himself in. Not with what he was supposed to do. So he put himself with just Bucky. With just his voice. Just his laughter. 

It was comfort. It wasn’t arousal. Steve’s cock was soft to his own touch. His elbow hurt and his wrist felt strained and his fingers were stiff. Cold and wet from the lube. 

He tried to give purpose to this. Meaning. Touched himself as if his hand was covered in solace. As if he hadn’t been stripped of worth. And importance. That instead he could elevate himself. With compassion for the self. For the suffering. As if pride was unbreakable. And self love could surpass humiliation. He didn’t have to believe if his hands believed. If their touch was as gentle as if they touched who he loved. If their touch was as careful. As reassuring. 

Just as sacred. 

There was shame in the first stroke. So much shame, that it flooded through Steve with the force of a thousand waves. It threatened to take him away. With no one here to hold him. 

So he held onto himself. Not with the strength of the serum but with tender obligation. To live. To live. To live. To survive. To make it through. To keep his head above the water. 

He let his hand glide back down the length, let out a shaky breath. He hadn’t been touched like this for too long. Hadn’t had a chance to touch himself like that. Wouldn’t have given it a fraction of a thought. Here. In between hostility and violence. 

He tried to recall them. All those moments of arousal. The memories of how it felt like. Flirting with Peggy. Her eyes. And the red of her lips. Nat’s lips. Long after that kiss. Back on the plane. And that smile. That maybe-smile. That maybe-in-another-life-smile. What it did to Steve’s cheeks. Bucky, in all the glory of his uniform. Steve watching him move with ease. And confidence. A lifetime later, Bucky’s body in fight mode. Bucky’s voice when he first said Steve’s name. The first hug. The second hug. The third. Bucky in his face all the time now. Buck bumping against him. Nudging him to the side. Out of the way. Buck alive. Bucky’s shy glances. And Bucky’s rough edges. Bucky joking about sex. What it did to Steve’s heart. Not knowing what it did to Steve’s heart. Maybe knowing what it did to Steve’s heart? 

What it did to his heart now. Pumping blood into the palm of his hands. Pumping blood to fill the palm of his hand. Pumping blood. Warming the skin. Warming the lube. A different kind of ache. 

His grip tightened, but not because his fingers were tense. Because his body was alive, too. Because nerves react to touch. Nerves react to thoughts. Nerves react to fantasies. And Steve’s nerves reacted to Bucky. 

Steve knew his own body, he knew his body in either way. Pre-serum. Post-serum. He knew the shape of his hips and the skin between it. The muscles down to his lower stomach. The weight of his cock. The heat of his cock. The feel of his cock. Firm. And familiar. Sensitive, yearning, flushed. 

A curl of his wrist. The pressure of his fingers. A light squeeze. How did he ever learn? How does anyone? Exploration. Imitation. Inspiration. 

He never went fast, hasty. He loved the tease. The slow hand. The patience. The impatience. The stuttering hips and the racing heart. He loved giving to himself. Exhausting himself from just that single moment. Dragging it out. The steady urge. The almosts. Walking that torturous line. 

Sometimes, even he forgot he was capable of it. Touch-starved and needy. Wanting it for the rush, for the pleasure, for the exhilaration. Wanting it. Wanting all the things. Intimately. Wanting all the things without grace or finesse. Wanting the dirt beneath vanilla fields. Like a desperate, greedy creature. Made up entirely of sex. Made up entirely for sex. Eager for its purpose. 

Steve let his hands write out the filth on his cock. Ride out the filth on his cock. A hungry fist, a wet mouth, to swallow him. To move him. To ignite him and finish him at once. To get him there. 

Though he felt heavy and in pain, he didn’t pause, never stopped. He settled for a good rhythm, kept his mouth shut, forced his breath through his nose. Never would he give them the satisfaction of a blunt sound. Some sincere moaning. He’d finish this quietly. Silently. And if his arm pulled on its cuff for control, then they wouldn’t know. And he’d never tell. What it cost him. 

The constant rush of adrenaline, between fear and pain, had made his entire body sensitive to stimulation. Any kind. And now, he couldn’t halt what he was forced to start. Now his body asked for release. Demanded it. Endorphins, dopamine, oxytocin. Semen. 

He could feel it drumming in the depths of his body. Bound to the desire to be touched in different ways. In different places. A craving that made its way to the surface. Traveled as a mere tingle down his spine, circled his rim with infinite appetite. Passing through his testicles with thriving lust, racing then, unstoppable, to the tip of his cock, greedy for that final touch. That final stroke. 

The cuff dug deep into the flesh around his wrist, his ankles, when he spilled it all in his hand. Holding onto himself with trembling fingers until he was empty. Until his shivering body -- trapped between cramping and calming-- went numb. Every muscle bursting with the instinct to contract, clashing with Steve’s indestructible determination to keep each and every unnecessary trace of his orgasm to himself. Eventually yielding to his will. Exhaustion took over and all else abandoned him. 

The paper towels were cheap. Dry and stiff. Too small. It was difficult to wipe his one hand without the help of the other. He wiped his stomach, quick, rushed, rough. Like a scratch. Brushed over the head of his cock. Winced over how sore it felt. 

Then he held onto the mess, crumpled tissues stuffed into his hollow fist. Damp and tepid in his palm. Where else would he leave them. What else would he do with them. 

For a moment, a barren silence spread around him. As if he had been alone all along. As if they had left him here. It took him a moment, to put the pieces together. He was slow. His body was slow. It was wrung out and deserted of thought. But silence meant threat. Silence meant death. Silence meant that Eddie was in danger. Or Carol. Silence meant that they wanted Venom. 

“I’ll take those for you,” earing-guy offered, suddenly back in Steve’s space who flinched at the sound of his voice. He didn’t just stand there, waiting for Steve to hand over the scrunched up papers. He put his hands over Steve’s hands. Gentle. Kind. Affectionate. Causing the hairs on Steve’s arm to stand. He peeled Steve’s fingers back. Patiently. But assertive. One after the other. When he turned, Steve’s palm was empty and his wrist was cuffed to the table again. 

He hadn’t even noticed. 

“They’re going to bring you back in a second,” earring-guy told him. And then footsteps. Mumbling into a radio. Then he was gone. 

More silence. A couple of seconds. Then it was back. The high-pitch nuisance. Meaning Eddie was back. At least that’s what Steve hoped. 

It didn’t matter though. A minute later another brigade of guards barged in. They must have been right outside. Masked. Armed. But this time they didn’t touch him. They didn’t hit him. They didn’t bother with the gag. Didn’t care about what happened to his arm. 

They rolled the entire table out of the room. Along long floors. Through countless code-swapping doors. No one said a thing. When that last door opened, half of the guards ran in upfront. He heard Carol scream. Then he was pushed into the cell. A second later they were all gone and the door shut behind them. 

Steve turned his head to find Carol cowering in a corner with her head hidden behind her forearms. It wasn’t like her. It didn’t suit her. But when she lowered her shoulders, dropped her hands, he could see that they were burned. Could see that her cheekbone was bruised. 

She stared at him. Distraught. There was no trace of Eddie anywhere in the room. 

 _Please_ , Steve mouthed. Couldn’t bring himself to speak. It was as if the air between them was vulnerable, in danger of shattering at any word. Any breath. 

Carol stood. Moved towards him. Loosened the buckles around his ankles. He could see that she was in pain. That she had to force herself, force her fingers to steady before every touch. Every contact with the damaged skin. But she kept going. Worked her way around the mechanism that kept his wrists tightly bound. 

The second his hands were free, he pulled Carol into a hug. He didn’t know if she needed it. If she wanted it. And he should have asked. Shouldn’t have done it after what he did. But he needed it. He wanted it for the both of them. To not be hurt and harmed and alone. 

She hugged him back with full force, she screamed into his shoulder and cried. 

And then he knew, he was going to have to ask again. 

_What did they do to you?_

 


	4. Chapter 4

“It’s some sort of fucked up IVF program,” Carol said eventually. An hour later. Maybe two? Eddie had been right. It was difficult in here to tell time. Was Steve even still allowed to touch her? To hold her, still? He should let go. He didn’t want to let go. She didn’t move away. “Hormones and this shit. These doctors called it a daily dosage,” she told him. Spat out the word ‘doctors’. Her cheeks were red from the anger and her eyes were red from the tears. “A daily dosage, do you hear that?” 

Steve nodded. 

“Ten days,” she went on. Infuriated. “They want to pump that shit into me for ten days or so.” 

Steve nodded again. “Ten to fifteen days,” he recalled from his own nightmarish encounter with the doctors. 

“They said on the thirteenth day they would likely retrieve them,” Carol said. Steve wasn’t sure of she had paid him attention. It didn’t matter. They were both caught up in their own heads. Their own stories. “The eggs or whatever. At least that’s what I understood.” 

“They said it would take ten to fifteen days with me,” Steve added to his own statement. 

“What do you think they’re trying to do?” she wondered. Ignored him again. “Do you think they’re going to sell this stuff? Superhero egg donor. Sperm donor. For whoever wants Captain America’s babies? I bet that would sell.” 

“I don’t know,” Steve admitted. He didn’t really want to know if he was being honest. “I don't know what they want with us. With this.” 

“Well, I didn’t sign up to be an egg donor to some wealthy assholes,” Carol told him. Turned her head to give him a quick glance. “Neither from Hydra nor Life Foundation nor any other organization these people could possibly be from. We have got to be out of here in two weeks, Steve. We have to.” 

“I know,” Steve reassured her. “I know that we have to get out of here.” 

“Do you think Eddie is alright?” she asked. Genuinely concerned. “How does he fit into the whole thing? Do you think they’re trying to sell his alien sperm, too? I don’t think Venom has viable sperm.” 

Steve blushed. It wasn’t just the fact that he hardly talked about these things. That he hardly had anyone to talk to about these things. It was too fucked up to make light of it. It was too fucked up to detach from it either though. He didn’t know how to talk about it. And yet, he should be. He was an adult. He was a soldier. He was a good man. He should be able to talk about these things without feeling like a schoolboy in the 1930s. 

He hadn’t even been able to tell Carol his whole ordeal. He was too ashamed to admit that he helped them along. That in between all of this, he was the one that got himself off. The one that got off easy. It wasn’t as if he’s had a choice. Not really. But he worried he should have fought them harder. He should have fought earring-guy harder. Right here, back in a cell, he couldn’t remember why he hadn’t. Why he had given in so easily. 

Because Carol hadn’t. Carol had fought them every step of the way. Even after they’ve put her in that room again. With the explosions that she was forced to absorb. Not just one, but multiple. She fought them so hard, with so much rage and violent anger that her powers had seemed to come back. It was the first time, anyone had shared with him just how it really felt like. When it wasn’t something to be afraid of. Not like Bruce or Wanda. How it felt like for powers to feel like a gift instead of a curse. When it was more liberating than crushing with responsibility. When it was truly empowering. And for just that moment, as she had told Steve, she had felt that exact feeling. Had felt it vivid and vibrant in her fists. 

That’s when they had decided to strap the explosive straight onto her hands. And then her hands had given in before she had a chance to. They took her to do the ultrasound next. The invasive one. To count the follicles in her ovaries. Right before they injected the hormones. 

“I really hope he’s alright,” Steve said, but still thinking about what Carol went through. How it must have hurt her to tell him. Some random Stranger. Who he technically still was. All he had was the hope that it had made things easier instead. He wasn’t even capable of providing any comfort now. He wasn’t even sure he understood the full scope of what had happened. “I remember them saying something about the symbiote,” he tells her. “They think he is rejecting my DNA. That he is rejecting the serum that changed me.” 

As he talked, it all seemed so far away now. He kept talking. Kept re-telling what he had forced himself to remember before. But speaking felt inadequate now. Words couldn’t even begin to explain. He had not wanted for them to be alone in this. But now he wanted to withdraw. Wanted to be unavailable. On leave. Somewhere else. Someone else. 

“Why would that matter?” Carol asked, but then answered the question herself. “Unless they want Venom to have your babies.” He couldn’t even tell anymore if she was joking or not. Nat liked to joke in hopeless situations. He used to like joking in hopeless situations. 

“Nobody is having any babies,” Steve said. Mostly to reassure himself. “They turned the buzz off again while I was with them. Just for a couple of minutes.” 

“I’m sure Eddie's fine,” Carol just said. She looked down at her hands and Steve wondered why no one had bothered to bind up her wounds. He felt stupid for that one little band-aid on his arm now. “I’m sure they’re both fine.” 

“Really?” Steve asked. “You’re worried about that thing? That- that creature? That alien whatever?” He didn’t understand her concern for Venom. Couldn’t grasp a fraction of it. Eddie had been nice enough. He couldn’t say the same for the symbiote. But then he didn’t know enough to make a proper judgement. He didn’t know anything at all. 

Carol swallowed, stayed with her own thoughts for a moment longer. “You said you were a soldier, right?” She looked at him. There were too many stories to tell. But Steve nodded. “Then we’re not so different.” She told him. “I was a soldier, too. Here on earth first. But later on a different planet. On Hala. I was fighting a war for a long time. Going on missions. Trying to do the right thing.” It dawned on Steve that they weren’t just similar. They were the same. “I couldn’t remember my life here, it was just dreams. Fragments. Nightmares. And I thought that planet was my home.” 

She takes a moment to collect herself. Not to distance herself from that person. Rather, she seemed to align herself with her confession. As if she had been at fault to not disclose it earlier. Admit to it. Own it. Own up to it. 

“I lived my life there and I’ve learned what it was like to live their. I knew about Hala’s history,” Carol went on. More confidently. “There was a particular myth,” she told him, “from the earliest ages of the war in which my people, or who I thought were my people, the Kree, captured a newborn symbiote to use it for its shape shifting abilities that were crucial in that war. The enemies, the people who I was taught to consider my enemies, they were shapeshifters too. The warrior who was then bonded with the symbiote became one of the most celebrated in Kree history. But they had to genetically modify him to be compatible with the symbiote. Not just compatible. They used their technology to alter the bond. Now, the symbiote was vulnerable to manipulation. To altered memories. Or memory loss.” Carol watched Steve take it all in, watched him beginning to understand before finishing the story. “They used their technology to make the symbiote obey their host unconditionally. The warrior went on to infiltrate enemy lines and was only discovered once he tried to free those who were imprisoned. During the chaos of the escape, the symbiote got lost. Some say that it fled its host, some say that the symbiote was discarded by the Kree warrior. It was never retrieved. Some say for the best. As it ultimately was a terrible entity, a weapon that should have never been used in the first place.” 

“And that symbiote,” Steve started but then broke off. Could it really be him? 

“That symbiote called themself Venom,” Carol said. Spoke his thought. 

“How?” Steve asked. “How is that possible?” 

“The symbiotes,” Carol informed him, “they live a long life. Very long. Some say, they are eternal. That some of them, who still live today, have lived since the beginning of the universe. And it’s said that those who saw the future, all futures of all universes, never saw even one without them. 

“Eternal life,” Steve states. “That’s what they want from Eddie. From Venom. How does it all work? The bond? Is it eternal, too?” 

“It can be. If the host is a good match. The symbiote has life-prolonging effects on their hosts if they are fed well,” Carol explained. “Symbiotes feed on hormones. Especially phenethylamine.” 

“I’m not that good at chemistry,” Steve admitted, needing further explanation. 

“Phenethylamine is related to the release of dopamine and adrenaline,” Carol went on. “There are essentially two ways for the symbiote to get it. Either they eat brains or their host’s brain provides a steady stream.” 

“I’m very familiar with the first option,” Steve commented. He didn’t like the memory of Venom’s parting jaws, his teeth and the throat behind them. 

“You asked if I was worried for Venom. He was manipulated, Steve,” she reminded him. Pulled Steve back into the story. “He had his memory wiped. Like me. At one point, Venom and I were as alike as you and me are. Of course, I worry.” 

 _Like Bucky_ , Steve thought. 

“Not everyone is like Eddie. Not everyone is a good host,” Carol argued. “Some abilities affect the symbiosis. Maybe they were right, those doctors or whatever. You were genetically altered, too. Maybe your DNA has influence on the symbiosis. Even if, let’s say, you wouldn’t be able to resist it entirely, you might be able to control it somehow. Control Venom.” 

“Make him comply,” Steve said, still thinking not of Venom but of Bucky. Drawing all his empathy for Venom from Bucky. “He wants to protect his autonomy.” 

“He wants to protect his life,” she clarified. “You may be a threat to him. A threat he wants to eliminate.” 

“And that’s why he tried to eat me?” Steve asked. “Is that what you’re saying? That he wanted to kill me out of self-defense?” 

Carol nodded. “Something like that,” she said. “I think Venom is scared of you. Even if they messed with his memories, I think some part of him remembers.” 

All of this sounded way too familiar to Steve. Hauntingly familiar. “What about the second option,” he wondered. “Aside from the brain-eating.” 

“Phenethylamine and by extension adrenaline and dopamine are products of high-intensity, possibly life-threatening stress and euphoria,” Carol explained. “Did you ever had to bail out of a jet, Steve?” she asked. “Or have you ever done skydiving?” 

“With and without parachute,” Steve just said. It hadn’t even registered as one of the sharper high-intensity feelings in his life. 

“The symbiote may force their hosts into a series of stressful events only to get a good meal,” she continued with no regard to Steve’s comment. “Obviously, there is only so much stress a simple human body can bear. This scenario is indicative of a bad match.” 

“So the symbiotes jump from host to host, seek out danger in order to drain them of-,” already Steve couldn’t recall the name of the hormones, “of life basically? Maybe controlling them isn’t the worst idea.” 

“Controlling them isn’t a better option,” Carol said and even looked a little offended over Steve’s remark. “The symbiote would starve if not provided with nourishment. It’s just the other side of the coin,” she argued. “The symbiotes don’t necessarily need to travel from host to host immediately. They can take their time to find the one that fits best. In general they feel more comfortable when bonded. Because it’s safer for them. Depending on where the symbiotes are located, they would die faster or slower without a host who is adjusted to their current environment. A symbiote here on earth would die relatively quickly when unbonded.” 

“What makes a good match?” Steve asked, trying to look a little apologetic over his earlier statement. 

“What causes euphoria aside from surviving life-threatening situations?” she asked right back. 

“Sex,” Steve said automatically. As if he knew. As if he was one to talk. “Love,” he said then. Corrected himself. Remember what, or rather who, caused most, if not all of the high-intensity moments in his life. 

Carol shrugged. Looked smug as she did so. This wasn’t an I-don’t-know-shrug. This was an there-you-go-shrug. A seems-you-knew-all-along-shrug. 

“You think Eddie loves Venom?” Steve asked. Couldn’t quite grasp it. His brain was a mess. He didn’t know he was capable of judgement when it came to love. He couldn’t afford it. It would make him a hypocrite. And he hated being a hypocrite. So he answered his own question. “Eddie loves Venom.” It was just history repeating itself. It was his own story. So he had to wonder at last, “Does Venom love Eddie?” 

“Who knows,” she said, disappointing him. “I guess, Venom knows. I guess, Eddie knows.” 

“You couldn’t have told me all of that sooner?” Steve asked, but his voice was soft. “Maybe before he tried to eat me?” 

She gave him a little smile. “I didn’t know if you were worth all this.” She grinned. She was joking. She didn’t know that it hurt Steve to hear those words. Or why. Why it killed Steve to hear these words. Why he needed more than a moment to breathe and fall silent. Why he needed to swallow so he wouldn’t give his pain away. He didn’t want to give this kind of pain away. 

They sat there for hours more. Thinking. Sometimes exchanging vague ideas for escape plans that they kept on discarding. And yet vowed to keep in the back of their heads. At other times Carol cried. Wiped her tears the second they fell. With the back of her hand. The salt must have stung in her wounds. But she didn’t flinch. She didn’t want Steve to see her tears. He did though. But never said anything. 

The worst thing about these hours was that there was nothing to do. Nothing at all. But still, -- of course --, Steve was stressed. And the stress never left him. He was anxious, terrified, restless. Scared shitless. Angry too. There was no way, he would get any sleep. He didn’t want to get any sleep. Although, they were finally in a cell that had places for them to lie down. 

With Carol still in his arm, Steve stared at the table he came in with. Thought there must be a way to use it. To transform it into a weapon. A distraction. A way to use it to their advantage. Any way to use it. Carol had her eyes closed, but Steve doubted that she was getting any rest either. Maybe she was just tired of witnessing where they were. 

His own eyes were hurting from the endless staring and they were still sore from the effects of the drugs. They had a sink now as well, and Steve had used the excuse of washing his face to wash his hands, too. There hadn’t been any visible traces of himself left, but he needed to get the memory off. Rid himself of the smell, of the slightly different texture of his skin. Carol hadn’t had said anything. 

They didn’t move when the guards returned. They didn’t look up. They stayed with each other, pressed into the corner of their cell. Braced themselves fo the hits and punches with their heads locked in their arms. Someone unlocked a gun right next to Steve’s ear. When he still didn’t move some of the guards laughed. 

“Don’t hold on too tight, Cap,” one of the guards said. “This isn’t gonna last. We need to borrow her again soon enough.” And then more laughter. All it did was cause Steve to pull Carol in even tighter. She didn’t react. Not really. Not visibly. But Steve could have sworn that her entire arm burned up for just a split second. Could have sworn that it suddenly felt hot and fiery where she touched his body in return. And with his face hidden away, for the first time since they’d gotten here, he had hope. And he let it spread on his face in the form of a smile. Not the nice kind. The one reserved for revenge. And retaliation. 

As far as he could tell, Carol’s reaction didn’t show though. None of the guards started moving, yelling, shooting. None of them touched them. They just stood there. Gloating in their mockery. “Why don’t you cuddle with this one,” the same guard said and then something, someone, Eddie, was basically thrown on top of them. He crashed into them with his full weight, hitting Steve with a loose arm over the incapacitated ear and in the crook of his neck, the other punching Steve in the stomach in its attempt to break the fall, all while his head knocked against Carol’s. All three of them cried out in pain and, dragged with the force of Eddie’s hurled body, toppled over to the side. A pile of aching bodies. 

The guards were still laughing when the door fell shut behind them. 

Eddie groaned, panted, yelled things that Steve couldn’t make out. He had trouble collecting all his limbs as he tried to get away from them as quickly as possible. Steve had his doubts that he was fully conscious. Aware. Sober. Whatever. He looked the same as he did before though. Roughly the same. And he had left traces of sweat wherever his body had made contact with Steve’s skin. He stammered incoherent nonsense, continuously shook his head as he crawled to the other side of the room. 

Steve would be lying to himself, if he’d say that he didn’t feel the immediate urge to comfort him too. To stop him from moving away from them. But despite everything he had learned, or because of everything he had learned, Venom was still unpredictable. And with Venom, Eddie was too. 

If he was intrinsically threatening to the symbiote, and utterly unknown to Eddie, he had only one choice left to ensure they could still all work together, could still work their way out of here. Steve had to get Eddie to trust him. Steve had to make Eddie rely on him. So that Venom would rely on him by extension. 

All he had to do, was to drown out the stress that was eating Eddie alive. All that he had to do was become Eddie’s primary -- well, secondary-- source of phenethyl-something. 

All he had to do was make Eddie fall in love with him. 

Too. 

Just a little. Just enough. 

And he had ten to fifteen days to accomplish it. 

“Eddie,” he said quietly. Simultaneously, with a gentle hand on her shoulder, checked on Carol who held the back of her wrist against the spot where Eddie’s head had knocked against hers. “You’re safe. You’re okay now,” he added, knowing it was a lie. They were never safe in here. They could never be okay. Eddie could never be okay with that godforsaken constant screeching sound. 

Eddie didn’t react. He was busy with himself. With the symbiote, probably. He was busy getting his body under control. He was busy talking non-stop, words that didn’t exist. He was busy being a mess. 

“Hey, Eddie,” Steve tried again. Still softly. He didn’t want them to lash out. He started to follow them to the other side of the room. Slowly, and on his knees. He could see now that Eddie was barely conscious. Could see how his eyes were wide and empty. He had a weird sense that Venom was in control of his body now. That he was trying to protect Eddie by getting him away from Steve. Eddie, who could have been drugged, too. Drugged or hurt. But the symbiote was struggling as the noise kept it from truly taking over. Kept them from becoming _Venom_. 

“Hey, buddy,” Steve gave it a third shot. “Venom.” If he had been able to reach Bucky through seventy years of the Winter Soldier, he would certainly be able to push through an immortal alien symbiote to reach some random guy he had known for a couple of hours. ...Right? 

“You’re okay now, you’re safe now,” Steve said again. “Both of you.” Eddie's attempts from dragging his body to the other side slowed down. Steve smiled. It was a small step, but a first success nonetheless. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he went on, hoped that Venom would find meaning in those words, even if Eddie was out. “I’m not going to hurt you and Carol won’t hurt you either.” He waited for a moment, waited for a bad reaction that never came. So he grew bolder. “And I’m not going to hurt Eddie either. We’re not going to hurt Eddie. We’re in this together,” he said, adding gently, “the four of us.” 

“Let us take care of Eddie,” Carol said just as caring. Slowly moved to Steve's side, not standing up either. “We can get him some water.” 

Suddenly, Eddie’s body stopped moving, fell on its chest, before Venom turned them onto Eddie’s back. The rise and fall of their breaths took over his body, mouth to shoulders down to his legs that were shaken with every exhale. Eddie’s lips moved, but what fell out weren’t even words, were barely human sounds. 

“Venom,” Carol said, visibly trying to focus all of her senses on Eddie’s body. 

“He’s trying to speak,” Steve finally caught on. 

“He might have lost access to the Broca’s area,” she guessed, causing Steve to throw her a clueless glance. 

“The what?” he asked a little helpless. 

“The area of Eddie’s brain that is mainly responsible for language and speech,” she told him. Steve was glad that she wasn’t judgmental about his questions. “We don’t know what he did to them, but Eddie could have severe brain trauma. He could be having a stroke right now.” 

“We have to force them to turn that shit off,” Steve blurted out immediately. “Otherwise he might die,” he said in shock. Not knowing what to do or how to help. 

“Maybe that’s what they want,” Carol said and a shiver ran down Steve’s spine. 

“Venom can heal him, right?” Steve asked, moments from panicking. “If they turned this shit off.” 

“Take off your shirt,” Carol said quickly and before Steve had the chance to ask if he heard right, she was already stripping off her own. 

Steve blushed, looked down instantly. He didn’t dare to question her, knew she knew more. Knew better. Knew more about symbiotes and hormones and brains. He had just yanked the fabric over his head when Carol tore it from his fingers a second later. She slid forward just two or three feet on her knees. All that was left in Steve’s sight was her bare back and strands of blonde hair covering her neck. 

“Venom,” she said, tried to address the symbiote. Steve envied her calm voice. Her steady composure. As she spoke she tied the shirts into thick knots. “We have to press these on Eddie’s ears, okay?” 

She was brilliant and Steve wondered somewhat angrily why they hadn’t thought about that sooner. Why he hadn’t. But then again, he knew it wasn’t a permanent solution. Not just because he didn’t want Carol to feel the humiliation. But because if the guards weren’t already watching, they soon would notice. And they’d come in. And either kill Eddie on the spot or take all their clothes to keep them from using them as tools. 

“You have to hurry, Carol,” Steve urged her on. He knew his words were obvious and pointless and rude, but he was stressed. And he was scared. He was terrified. 

“We’re not going to hurt him,” she started, but she wasn’t answering Steve. She was talking to Venom still. “It won’t be enough to keep it all out, but it might tone it down enough to help you save him.” 

When Eddie's body remained motionless, when even his breathing slowed down, Carol acted fast, swift, smooth. She somewhat slid over to Eddie, maneuvered his head in between her knees and pressed the shirts over his ears, using her palms flat as a second buffer. Steve could tell by her face that her hands still hurt and that she had to fight herself through it. 

Steve watched it happening, unable to move himself and only realized he had frozen up when he noticed that she was now sitting across from him again, facing his way. Ashamed, he looked down again. He knew it was stupid. He knew it was stupid to even think about modesty when Eddie could be dying right in front of them. But he couldn’t turn it off, couldn’t put it aside. 

He wanted to help, but the second he moved, Eddie's body jerked, always threatening to shake Carol’s hands off as if Venom warned him to stay away. He remained in his spot, frozen and still. So much for working together. So much for trying to make Venom trust him. He felt ashamed of his useless thoughts. Just now, as Eddie was fighting for his life. As Venom was fighting for Eddie's life. And Carol. He felt ashamed for being useless. The only piece that didn’t fit. 

“Steve,” Carol hissed. Urgently. Not angry. Just trying to get his attention. He looked up. “Can you?” she asked just when he noticed that her hands were trembling. That she had to use her knees, too, to keep protect Eddie’s ears. 

He took a deep breath, shook himself free from whatever spell had him left motionless. “Sorry, buddy,” he said to Venom. “It’s either me helping or Eddie dying. And no one is going to die today.” He’d already scooted closer as he spoke, trying to make himself a little smaller. A little less threatening. Although, he knew that what was threatening to Venom wasn’t the shape of his body, but the essence of his every single cell. 

“Now you have to hurry,” Carol told him. There was blood on one of the shirts from where her wounds had been torn open again. Down on the floor Eddie’s face had paled and darkened all the same. Looked almost as gray as the walls now. Gray with thick black spots and lines. 

Carefully but determined, Steve moved forward. Took Carol’s place. Closed his palms over the shirts on Eddie’s ear. He kept his fingers tightly pressed together. Used his knees on top of that like she had. This had to work. It had to. Carol stayed with him, shoulder to shoulder, and for a moment Steve forgot that they were half-naked and covered only in bruises. Forgot about the blood in Carol’s hands. 

For a while, nothing happened and the thought of losing Eddie weighed down Steve’s hope. If one of them died, all of them could. All of them would be doomed. No one would get out. He closed his eyes to shut out the noise in his own head. 

“I think it’s him,” Carol said then. Quietly. Whispering hope back into Steve’s spirit. “I think he’s coming back. Eddie,” she clarified. “I think he’s coming back to himself.” 

Feeling brave with her words, Steve opened his eyes, prepared for the worst nonetheless. But as soon as he laid eyes on the quivering body in front of him, he could see that Eddie’s fingers were moving a little, that the thicker black lines receded from Eddie’s face, leaving only thin traces behind. 

“Is he going to turn into Venom?” Steve asked, reminded of the symbiote’s presence. It was selfish, too, to ask. But he didn’t want to be the one dying today either. 

Carol shook her head. But she nudged Steve’s hand a little, loosening his grip on one of the shirts just that tiny bit. Just that tiny bit that told him that she hadn’t been sure. That she hadn’t been thinking about it before. That it was better to be safe than sorry. When she met his eyes, he just nodded. It was okay. They were okay. Maybe someone was looking out for him, too. Maybe it was her. 

“Eddie,” Carol said then, firmly, as she looked down at him. “Eddie, are you alright?” 

Eddie blinked, rolled his eyes, scrunched his nose. Blinked again. Tried to shrug the makeshift noise cancelling earpieces off him. When Steve let go, Eddie flinched at the buzzing sound piercing his ears again. Causing pain to Venom. 

“Are you alright?” Carol asked again. Parting with Steve’s shoulder and moving a little to the side. 

“Fine,” Eddie groaned, tried to push himself up by his elbows. Then he let his head roll back to face them. The second his gaze fell onto Steve, he faltered, his eyes widened and his cheeks reddened. “Fine,” he said again, staring, blinking, with parted lips. 

“Both of you?” Steve asked. He didn’t know what else to do. Just sat there, naked shoulder and naked chest. There was no use in trying to hide his body now. 

“Both of us,” Eddie said, nodded along to his own words. When he turned to look for Carol he almost lost balance. “Whoah- what the,” he stammered, slapped a hand over his eyes. “What the hell?” he whispered to himself. “What the hell happened here?” he asked a little louder with his eyes still covered. 

“You had a stroke and we saved you,” Carol told him. She untangled one of the shirts while she went on to tell him what happened. The whole story of what happened to her and Steve. As she spoke, Steve fell quiet, finally retreating from it all. Moved his body back against the wall. Hugged his knees and kept his head down. 

He sat there for a while, waiting for Carol to reach the moment Eddie regained consciousness, sinking into his own. Into his own thoughts. His own memories. He slipped so fast, he almost cried from how much he suddenly missed his friends. Missed feeling cared for and protected. Missed where he truly belonged. 

He was pulled back by a hand on his shoulder, not Carol’s hand. This one was bigger and wet from sweat, not blood. It was Eddie, looking at him. It took Steve another second to collect all his senses. When he fell back into the present, he blinked in his own surprise. Over a shirtless Eddie. A glance to the side, to see that Carol was wearing a shirt instead. The one with the blood stains. 

“I’ll hold onto that okay?” Eddie asked. He showed Steve the balled up shirts in both his hands. “Just for now. So I can,” he said, “you know-”. He held both hands up against his ear. “Just for a little bit?” 

“Sure,” Steve just said. He suddenly felt indeterminably tired. Suddenly, longed for sleep more than for a friendly face. A friendly hug. 

Eddie hovered a little in his space, not quite sure where to look, he looked at everything and nothing. At the same time, he seemed oddly insecure, trying to hide his own body when there was nowhere to hide for him either. When there was nothing to hide. Sure there was sweat on his chest, but that was a given by now. Steve didn’t care about those black lines anymore. He didn’t care about Eddie’s tattoos, although from what he could make out, some of them were a little cheesy. Some of them were straight up badly done. He didn’t care about the hairs on his chest, on his stomach, or that he was built differently. He didn’t see why Eddie would. 

“Um-,” Eddie tried and Steve just waited for him. He felt numb, exhausted, patient. Infinitely patient. “Thanks,” Eddie said finally. And then a little quieter, “from the both of us.” 

Steve nodded. Nodded until Eddie disappeared from his sight. But he didn't go far. Sat down right next to Steve. In his own exhaustion. 

They were quiet for quite some time. For so long that eventually Steve wasn’t even sure if they were all still awake. 

“Why did they want to kill you, Eddie?” Steve asked then. Out of the blue. "They almost killed you." 

Eddie wiped his face with his hand first, then used one of the shirts instead. Steve hoped it wasn't his. 

"They have another host for Venom," Eddie admitted then. He looked as if he was in pain just thinking about it. "They want me out of the way." 

"Who?" Steve asked, although he already knew the answer. "Who is the other host?" 

Eddie was quiet, wiped his face again. He didn't want to face Steve. 

"You," Carol said across from him. Evidently, she hadn't found any sleep either. 

Next to him, Eddie nodded. And so did Steve. 

They all knew. 

 


	5. Chapter 5

With so much to say, to ask, to discuss, the three of them remained painfully quiet. The cop-out of the overwhelmed brain. Now they all seemed to experience it: Drawing a blank. 

There was, in fact, not a single new thought in Steve's head. It was just circles of unanswered questions. And nonsense that was supposed to make sense. Maybe made sense in the past. 

"But Venom rejects me," Steve offered eventually. To his own hollow mind as much as anyone else's. Someone had to start. Someone had to say something. 

"Not like-," Eddie jumped in on that train, "physically." He sighed over his own choice of words. "I mean, like, not biologically." 

They stared at each other for a second as if they spoke different languages. 

Steve even squinted his eyes and hunched up his shoulders. His brain was incapable of processing what he was told. "So-," he held Eddie's gaze, "mentally?" he asked with no shame of sounding dumbfounded. 

Eddie stared back with a similar expression. "More like, emotionally. Spiritually," he said, but there was a little question mark in his tone there at the end. 

"The symbiote rejects me spiritually," Steve echoed. No, they must have really been speaking different languages. "As in, my spirit isn't good enough for him?" 

"You just have a bad vibe," Eddie said and quickly added, "no offense." He truly did look apologetic. 

Steve nodded, although he didn't agree. Part of him understood though. Venom wasn't the only one who had gotten a bad vibe from him lately. He himself hadn't been easy on what he'd stood for. But things had changed. He had drawn a line somewhere; had reinforced it. Now, an arrest warrant was out with his name on it. Bad vibes institutionalized. 

"Why me? What would me being Venom's host even accomplish? What would anyone gain from this?" Steve asked for a lack of better options. There was nothing left to say about his _vibe_. "Venom tried to kill me the first chance it got," he said eventually. Defeated. 

It was clear, palpable, that Eddie contemplated a platitude for a response. Then he seemed to listen inward instead. He glanced back and forth between Steve and Carol. Shook his head, laughed nervously, but then nodded. Seemed to have an entire conversation with his symbiote, unbothered by everyone else in the room. Carol didn't seem to mind. She looked bored once more. 

"It wasn't personal," Eddie assured Steve then. Chose the platitude after all. He crooked his head, but either chose to ignore whatever conversation Venom wanted to start next or the symbiote had merely thrown in a comment. Either way, Steve thought it was probably an objection. It was personal. 

"No, I know," Steve said dismissively. "It's just my vibe." 

"You'll never get it, man," Eddie just said. Maybe it was Eddie. Maybe it was Venom speaking through him. Steve had no idea how it worked. Possibly, they were right about him never getting it. Although, now that he thought about it, he had his doubts that the symbiote would call him 'man'. 

"I understand he thinks I'm threatening," Steve tried. He knew he didn't exactly made things easier. "And I guess, knowing someone is out there to kill you only to replace you with me, doesn't make me any less threatening." 

"They said I was useless," Eddie told him. Resigned. "That I was just human. And of no use for their cause." He grimaced at that. 

"Reproduction," Carol said across from them. It was strange hearing her voice now after she hadn't spoken for so long. She sounded tired and Steve felt with her. They were all running low. With nothing left to go on. No more plans, ideas, energy. "That's their cause, right? There has to be something there. How does it work for Venom?" 

"That's private," Eddie just said. Steve had a feeling that it was mostly Venom's rejection of the question. 

"I don't think there's a lot of room in here for privacy, buddy," Steve argued, not even addressing Eddie, but hoping for Venom's open ear. "If we want to make it out of here we have to work together. We already established that. You, Eddie," he said, feeling the need to clarify who he was talking to now, "you said you were on board. With whatever plan we would come up with." 

Eddie looked at him for a long minute. Maybe he had a silent discussion with his symbiote. Then he swallowed; seemed to have made a decision. "Seeds," he mumbled. "The symbiotes carry a number of seeds in their matter." 

"Did they mention the seeds?" Carol asked, leaned forward. "That they wanted to take them." 

Eddie shook his head. "Not when I was around," he told her. "Not while I was conscious. It doesn't matter if they want them, we won't give them away." 

"And the host?" Steve asked. "What role do they play?" 

Eddie shook his head. "They've got nothing to do with it. I'd have nothing to do with it. They're Venom's. The symbiote reproduces asexually," Eddie explained. "What they would take from it would be ready to hatch. Doesn't matter if he was bonded to me or anyone else. Or if he wasn't with a host at all." 

Eddie scoffed then but smiled softly. Steve guessed it must have been about something that Venom said. Love and hormones. It mattered. It mattered to Venom. 

"But they want you out of the picture," Steve argued. "And put me in it." 

"If none of this happens because of what you would do to his seeds," Carol concluded, "then it's about what he would do to yours." 

"Do we have to go there?" Steve asked although he knew it was futile. He felt the heat in his cheeks and in the tip of his ears. He had no way to hide it now. 

"The symbiote becomes part of the host, right? Physically indistinguishable?" Carol wondered, looked at Eddie, who nodded. "So they don't just want superhero sperm. They want superhero alien sperm." 

"But Venom wouldn't be in his sperm," Eddie just said. He didn't seem to be bothered by the topic at all. He was comfortable like that. In his own body. Masculinity. Humanity. "He doesn't leave the host's body like this. Or scatters himself like that." 

"Does he leave traces?" Carol asked. "In his host?" 

"I guess," Eddie said, but there was a higher chance that it was Venom's own guess. 

"For how long," she wondered. Steve could tell by her expression that she was already two steps ahead of him again. 

"As long as the host lives," Eddie told her. "Or ex-host, or whatever." 

"Maybe that's all they want," Carol said, thinking about the possibility. "Maybe the traces in the sperm are enough." 

Steve tried to not cringe and give into his embarrassment. He turned to Eddie instead. His brain desperately trying to focus on a theory here. To transform Carol's thoughts into something he could work with. But in the end, he needed answers. Not speculation. Not guesses. Truths. And facts. 

"Why is Venom scared of me?" he asked. "Because I could control him? Control all symbiotes?" 

"Not just control him," Eddie said, his words heavy with meaning. "Erase him." 

"Erase him?" Steve asked. "What does that mean." 

"His mind," Eddie clarified. "Who he is. His personality. There would be nothing left of him. You'd use him just like a shell. Like another suit you'd put on." 

One of the doctors had said it before, --if a doctor was what they were--, that they wanted Steve, because he was made to lead. Maybe unbeknown to anyone, he wasn't just made to lead troops. Soldiers. He was made to lead symbiotes, too. Dominate them. Command them. 

"If there were people like me," Steve started, worded it carefully. He didn't want to say those other words. Offsprings. Kids. Babies. "With my DNA, they could do that too?" 

"I guess so," Eddie just said. More guesses. Steve was sick of them already. 

"But only after they found a symbiote to bond with," Steve clarified. "Right? A symbiote like Venom." 

"He would never," Eddie insisted as if he was said symbiote. Steve figured that in a way he was. "Not voluntarily." 

"So you could force it?" Steve asked. "The symbiote? The bond?" 

"It's what they're trying to do now. Kill me and force Venom into you. But he'd try to kill you first. First chance he'd got," Eddie reminded him without batting an eye. "Eat you alive." 

"Could other symbiotes be persuaded. If maybe they would recognize themselves? Or another symbiote?" Steve asked. "Traces of Venom." 

"Any traces left have the purpose of providing information," Eddie argued. "They would only alert other symbiotes of the danger you pose to them. Not appease them. Or persuade them." 

"What about the little ones?" Steve asked. He had no time to worry about being eaten again. "From the seeds? Can they be forced, too?" 

"The young ones die when they're bonded too early," Eddie told him. "They're vulnerable at first." 

"What if they'd be inserted directly into, let's say, an embryo?" Steve wondered. "Bonded even before birth? The symbiote forever in their blood?" 

Eddie shrugged. He didn't know. Which meant Venom didn't know. 

"A new generation of hosts and symbiotes," Carol said, finishing Steve's thought. "Inseparable." 

"If they could insert the symbiotes of the seeds into the embryos, they don't need Venom's traces to forge a bond," Eddie said. "Steve's DNA would be enough to control them." 

"And yet, they still need Steve and Venom to bond. There has to be a reason for it," she started thinking out loud again. "They'd go as far as to kill you for that to happen." 

"Maybe they don't want to take any chances," Eddie speculated. "Maybe alien tagged sperm swims faster." He raised his eyebrows at Steve who couldn't help averting his eyes. For a second, Steve wondered if he had steered them back there on purpose. 

"Right now, it doesn't matter why this is happening," Carol said then. She stood up so swiftly that Steve's muscles ached just from watching her. "You have to give Venom to Steve." 

"No," Steve and Eddie shrieked at the same time. 

"No way," Eddie added. 

"Just for one second." Carol told him. "Just enough for the symbiote to leave those traces. You said they remain in the host for a long time, right?" 

Eddie nodded. 

"So just hand him over, have Venom alien-chip Steve and rebond with him," Carol told him. "Just a quick back and forth." 

"I don't want to carry alien traces in me all my life," Steve stressed. "How would I know what those would do to me. Now or in the future." 

"What's the difference to being genetically altered and turned into a supersoldier?" Carol asked. As always, so cruel when she spoke the truth. She had a point though, but the one she had wasn't the one that mattered. 

"My consent," Steve reminded her. 

"If we do this now," Carol told him, "they might just leave Eddie alone. Otherwise, they will find a way to kill him eventually. They will try over and over again. Until they'll succeed. Leaving Venom with only you for a host." 

"Or you," Steve said angrily, but he didn't get a chance to argue his thought. 

"Not her," Eddie said immediately. "She cannot be Venom's host. Ever." 

"She cannot be a host, but she cannot be food either?" Steve said. He was pissed now. Confused. Angry. Annoyed. Exhausted. 

"Carol is-," Eddie started, but then he seemed to get distracted. Maybe listening to Venom's explanations. Maybe he was just biding time to make something up. "She's like fire." 

"Fire?" Steve asked, staring at Eddie. 

"Her powers," Eddie explained. "The symbiotes die in fire. It runs through her. Even now," he went on. "Even when you're this weak." He looked up at her only to be faced with a fond, yet slightly smug smile in return. Steve started to hate these two. 

"Venom can't touch her," Eddie added. "Can't eat her, can't bond with her." 

"Lucky you," Steve said dryly and threw Carol a look. 

"It will give us more time, Steve," she argued. Not a single plea in her tone. Only reason. Conviction. "Remember? Two weeks. They can't kill us for another two weeks. We need to give them what they want now. We need every second we have to figure out how to get out of here. Not worry about how to keep each other alive." 

"I'm not giving him my symbiote," Eddie cut in, there was to much emphasis on 'my' to go unnoticed. Somehow Steve was surprised. Although, he knew how possessive love could be. He seemed to have forgotten for a second what they were dealing with. Eddie loved Venom. Maybe he would only give him up in death. Maybe he was ready to die for him. 

"Just for one second," Carol said again. 

"That's enough for Steve to kill him," Eddie said. He was sweating even more now. He was worried. Scared. Petrified. 

"I'm not a killer," Steve told him, but he knew that wasn't entirely true. He surely would be ready to fight his way out of here. Casualties be damned. 

"You could kill Venom by accident," Eddie argued breathlessly. "Just by being overwhelmed with the bond. Suppressing him out of panic." 

"How about a half bond?" Carol asked carefully. "Let Venom test the waters. Would that work?" 

"There can only be one host at a time," Eddie told her. "There is no test run," he said annoyed. "Venom can only bond with one person at once." 

"What can I do?" Steve asked. "To convince you, convince Venom, that I'm not going to hurt anyone. To make sure you can trust me. To let you know he'll be safe with me." 

Steve didn't wait for an answer before he looked down. He wasn't even far from suggesting they'd knock him out again. Mute him. Block his conscious mind. Nothing within him was strong enough to protest the idea. He knew his body could take it. And maybe it was the only choice they had. It was a good reason. But he knew his mind couldn't take it. He was barely holding it together as they spoke anyway. 

“Venom,” Carol said gently from somewhere next to Steve. A couple of steps away. But then she crouched down right next to him, although she kept facing Eddie as she spoke. “You have to leave Eddie,” she told him. "You have to leave Eddie to save him." 

First nothing. No reaction. Then Eddie’s body suddenly jerked. Venom didn’t like to hear that. Or so Steve thought. Even out of the corner of his eyes, he could see the black veins on Eddie's torso coming to life. They swirled around his chest and shoulders, more and more black mass retreating from the depths of Eddie's body, pooling right under the skin. And then moving entirely into his arms. 

Eddie sat there as it happened. Shaking his head. "This isn't just Venom's decision to make," he said. If to Carol or himself, Steve wasn't sure. 

"Eddie," she started this time,"if you die, Venom will have only the choice to go with Steve or die here on this floor as well," Carol said. As if they weren't aware of this already. "This can be different. This isn't forceful separation. It's a mere exchange." She didn't move from Steve's side, although he wasn't sure that helped her cause. She even put a hand on Steve's naked shoulder. "Let Venom save you." 

"He thinks you're worth this sacrifice," Steve said quietly, thinking about Peggy. Thinking about the day Bucky died for him. "If you believe in him," he echoed all those words he never forgot. "If you respect him, you must allow him the dignity of his choice." 

Eddie swallowed, looked down at his hands in his lap where Venom seemed to have gathered his mass. In a gesture so intimate that Steve had to look away, he brought them up to his face, brushed his lips tenderly over almost black skin of his palms. Placed a kiss there where Venom seemed to long for him in return. Trapped under a thin layer of life, paralyzed by the white noise that kept him from emerging fully. 

This love, Steve understood. The sacrifices and the goodbyes. And soft whispers of

 _please don't_. 

Not you for me. Only _I for you_. 

And then the inevitable: 

_Don't move while I'm gone._

_Don't move on while I'm gone._

Just a blink and you'll have me back. Just a blink and I'll return. 

Now it was up to Steve to return Venom as Eddie nodded his surrender. 

"Let's do this then," he said, voice thick with sorrow and grief. And Steve swore to himself that there would be no reason for tears. This time, he would really be the hero. Their hero. 

"You're doing the right thing," Carol assured him. She squeezed Steve's shoulder and then moved off him. Left his skin cooling after her touch. Maybe she had wanted to touch Eddie instead. Maybe she hadn't dared. 

"How does it work?" Steve asked, turning towards Eddie. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know all the details, but he needed some kind of instructions anyway. 

"I suppose there are a million different ways," Eddie started and then looked Steve over, considering him. "Okay, just-," he said, looking just as nervous as Steve felt. "Give me your hands, okay?" 

He scooted closer to Steve until he sat cross-legged opposite of him. Then he held out his hands for Steve to place his own into them. 

"I think this is the easiest way," Eddie told him. "Considering the circumstances." 

Considering that the symbiote was suffering under the sounds. And that Eddie had just survived a stroke. And that Steve was weakened and bruised. 

Instantly unsure of himself, Steve bit his lip. His body felt too big now, too clumsy, too mellow to contain Venom. He felt thoroughly virginal compared to Eddie with his ink and his scars and his broad hands that were made to protect what was vulnerable. What was loved. Hands so promising like Steve had never seen any other before. In contrast, his own palms were damp, pliant and his fingers were cold. Suddenly, his hands were the only parts of his body he could feel. 

He wiped them on the sides of his sweats before he placed them in Eddie's. They were sticky too, but Steve found he didn't mind. They were firm. Laced with sweat but warm and solid. Safe. 

"There's going to be pain," Eddie instructed him. "As soon as Venom moves through you. The frequencies, they will hurt you in a different way. Both of you. It's going to hurt a lot. And it's going to hurt once you separate again. That's normal. You'll feel sick. Hungry too maybe at first. And then lost and alone once he leaves." 

Normal. Steve didn't like that word. One of those phrases that had lost meaning here. This place had a tendency to swallow words. Distort them and dissolve them. Steve wondered with how many he'd be able to return. If they ever returned. 

They sat there like that then, holding hands, waiting for Venom to slither through Eddie's wrists right into Steve's arms. For Venom to swap one host for the other. To swap the lover for the antagonist. 

Steve's heart hammered in his chest, the echoes of his heartbeat melted between their hands. Right under Eddie's thumb over Steve's third knuckle.  High-intensity stress, indeed. Venom would be welcomed with a feast. 

Steve drew a long breath. Watched Eddie close his eyes before he let his own fall shut. Handed himself over and hoped for Venom to do just that too. 

There was nothing left between them but the buzzing noise and nerve endings that craned towards touch. And the moment stretched. And it blurred into slipping minutes. Impatient seconds that dropped heavy with every breath, every twitch of a finger, every vulnerability that could be spilled between the holding hands of two men who weren't used to human touch. 

When he couldn't bear the wait any longer, Steve forced his eyes back open, let his grip on Eddie tighten as if a look could sever their connection. 

But Eddie was right there, meeting his gaze, so it wouldn't run dry between them. They weren't alone in this. 

"He's shy," Eddie said quietly. Apologetically. He smiled and shrugged but his voice was pained. 

"You and me both, buddy," Steve guaranteed. He had just meant to address Venom with some sincere acknowledgement, some validation, but the second his words were out, Eddie looked at him with genuine compassion. As if Steve's life was worth just that slight hint of pity for the shyness he just admitted to. As if it was as foreign to Eddie as alien symbiosis was to Steve. 

"He just forgot things he wanted to say first," Eddie explained. And then when Steve stared at him a little lost, he added, "-a lot of things." 

"Take your time," Steve said. Nodded with understanding although he had no idea how to prepare himself in the meantime. This was as ready as he would get. Now he wished he hadn't said that. 

In his hands, Steve could feel Eddie's impatience. Although it might has well had been Venom's nervousness. Or his own. They were nearly there anyway, to share it all. 

"I think we're ready," Eddie said then. He even tried a comforting smile. Steve could tell he wasn't ready either. To let go. 

"I'm right here, buddy," Steve said, thinking of Venom. "Just one little step." Then he held tighter to Eddie's hands. 

A sharp breath that followed, Eddie's, maybe Steve's, as the lines beneath Eddie's skin spread onto the back of Steve's hands. 

He was washed away, floated through the sensation of being permeable. A whole other life drifting through him, exposing an emptiness that he hadn't known before that moment. The vacant parts of his soul that suddenly begged to be filled. Countless corners of hollow thoughts and feelings unshared. Unnamed and unborn. 

And then pain. Too much pain. Pain everywhere. Every cell being wrung and drained of comfort. Nerves contracting from the agony. Stripped bare and laid uncovered to the rough shards of throbbing rapture. 

Steve started shaking. But so did Eddie, trembling under the shock of separation, clinging to Steve as if clinging to Venom. Now it was Steve's hands that were slipping from sweat. He felt it everywhere. It was too hot. He was too small. His body was too small for the both of them. 

His soul though, his soul unfolded with needs that had been perpetually unmet. Until now. Until now, no one had touched him there. At the very core of himself. And all at once, he felt discovered. 

Unbearably disturbed where dust had settled over once feisty waters. He could hear the soft sway of the mild ripple. And he ached all at once with the realization that oceans were never made to be calm and the melancholy of never be untouched again. 

He was caressed from the inside out, every bone, every organ was brushed against, nudged aside. He was worried he'll burst from it. 

Dizziness spread and nausea. And black lines all over his body. He was used to feeling sick by now. Eddie was coughing, shaking still and could barely hold himself up. Steve hadn't noticed Carol coming up behind him. Holding Eddie steady through it all. He cried from the loss. Silent tears while the insides of Steve screamed. 

Seconds later, something like dawn. A moment of plateau, the lulling drums of his own heart beat, the sensation of well-oiled drawers being soundlessly rolled opened to hushed whispers. A faint breath of shame that blew over them. 

And then, nothing at all. 

Not dawn but nightfall. Steve panicked. Heat flashes and more sweat. Heart pounding. Terrified that he could have hurt Venom. By accident, as Eddie had warned him. 

He held his breath, dug through the layers of his hurting body to ask if he was alone. Alone again.  

The answer hit him like a horn blaring truck on a highway, like a gigantic blinding billboard on Times Square in the dark. One single thought, --his only thought--, no, --their only thought--, letters in all caps blasting through his brain. His body. Through everything he felt until it was the only thing left to feel: 

**BACK WITH EDDIE.**

And then came the voice that he had only heard once before. From facing Venom when he was with Eddie. Not like this. Not occupying his entire mind, all of his senses. He could hear venom, but he could feel him too. Could feel his words. Could feel the anger and distress and just a hint of indignation. The fear of betrayal. 

 **Want Eddie back** , Venom almost yelled in Steve’s head, so disturbingly pervasive that Steve felt dizzy for a second, worried he would throw up from the pressure between his temples. **Now, please.**

“Sorry, buddy,” Steve forced through gritted teeth. Out loud. He didn’t know yet how to communicate with a symbiote that seemed to work his way through his brain to contaminate every thought. He could barely find his own. Find his own thoughts in between Venom's. More sweat. He had no idea how Eddie managed. "Give him a second to recover, okay?" 

Did Venom even need his permission to leave? Steve didn't know. He didn't feel like he had a grasp on the symbiote. He felt him slipping in and out of his own perception. When he didn't yell, didn't demand attention, or just gathered it through the bond, Venom moved through Steve's thoughts quickly and quietly. Barely there just now and then flickering and all encompassing just one split second later. 

 **Hold him tighter** , Venom asked of Steve. But even if he tried, he didn't think his grip on Eddie's hand could ever be stronger. He was held in return by Eddie who clung to him still. Not letting go of Venom's escape route. 

 **It's the shock** , Venom graciously informed Steve of what he'd already known. **We are missed**. 

"Did you leave them?" Steve wondered, his voice sounded a little less pained than before. He wanted to separate conversation from train of thought. Thought maybe he could slow it all down if the verbal word was Venom's only cue. Of course, part of him was aware that the symbiote knew his thoughts even before he could spell them out. He ignored that part. "Did you leave the traces?" he asked again. 

 **To save Eddie** , Venom stated, sounded proud enough. 

"Yeah, buddy," Steve told him gently. Very quietly. This was just for them. "We both did this to save Eddie." 

Venom better remembered that the next time he had a chance to bite off Steve's head. 

 **My Eddie** , the symbiote gushed. Through the bond, Steve could feel what Venom felt for Eddie as they looked at him now. It was beyond comprehension. It was belonging, shelter, destination. It was caring, generous and coy. It was satisfaction and saturation. It was neverending longing. It was the simple pleasure of seeing him, right there, and leave him undisturbed. And dwelling on the tug of the soul that said: If anywhere, _then right there._

As if hearts were beds, one readily made in Eddie's chest for the symbiote to crawl into. Warm from sleep and skin that once was so foreign to Venom. The smallest chamber for him to rest his eyes, with just a sigh on the pillow, gently aching over parting dreams. They were only second-best now. 

"Is he alright?" Eddie asked. His voice was hoarse and he could barely keep his eyes open. 

In the pit of Steve stomach, Venom stirred with joy at being the cause for Eddie's concern. His first thought after separation. Sometimes love seemed to flow both ways at just the right time. It was difficult for Steve not to notice the slightest thread of his own envy glimmering in their messy, tangled web of human and alien emotions. 

 **Fine, Eddie, am fine** , Venom proclaimed in Steve's head. 

"He's fine," Steve echoed. "He's just waiting for you to take him back." 

"I don't know, man, not feeling like my brain is being picked apart by those goddamn noises is kind of refreshing," Eddie joked, showed them a tired smile. Then he took a deep breath, closed his eyes for just one more moment of solitude. "Okay, love," he said then, serious this time. Looking at Steve but looking for Venom beneath him. "Time to come home." 

Steve copied Eddie, braced himself for the pain with a deep breath. For a different kind of pain. It had just been a second. A couple of minutes. He could bear losing the symbiote. This hadn't altered him. Not like the serum had. This would be over soon enough. Put aside then. Forgotten eventually. 

 **Goodbye, Steve** , Venom said softly. Maybe he wasn't half as bad as Steve had thought. **Don't worry about those memories you're missing. They're still there.**

"Wait," Steve gasped, but it was too late. He could feel Venom rushing out all at once. It was like a punch in the throat. Now it was Steve who coughed and shivered under the cooling sweat. It was Steve who felt open and torn apart. Who felt those empty gaping spaces inside him that had just felt too small one second ago. 

It was Steve whose mind went from color to gray, from vibrant to stale. Loneliness spread. Worse than he had ever felt in his life. A wet blanket over those bare wounds. Cold and lethargic where he had been grazed but would never be touched again. 

He lost his balance over his racing mind, those circling thoughts of abandonment, but Eddie held onto him with those welcoming hands. The color of his skin. Venom had retreated into Eddie's chest. Just faint shadows of black veins over his heart. 

Where he'll rest now, Steve thought, his own eyes were burning from exhaustion. If Steve could have, he'd follow Venom into the sanctuary of Eddie's body. Be with them. And sleep there. And forget that he was his own person. Alone. 

"I got you," Eddie said, reassuring. "I got you," he said again. "Both of you." 

He didn't let go of Steve. Not even after Carol had settled next to him. Shoulder to shoulder once more. She was warm, yet not warm like Eddie. But Steve couldn't tell if it was his own thought or a lingering certainty that Venom had left behind. 

Either way, he was left longing for it all the same. Was left longing for it all alone. 


	6. Chapter 6

Against all odds, Steve slept. Managed only because Carol and Eddie promised to stay awake. He curled up against the wall in one of the corners, one arm around his chest and a tense fist in between jaw and collarbone, terrified of being woken up by guards. Terrified of never waking up at all. 

There was no way of telling if what they did was a good decision. If anyone outside of their cell was even aware of it. If they would leave Eddie alone now, knowing that the symbiosis they wanted had already taken place. 

He would have fought the urge for sleep harder, but the experience of being bonded to Venom and then separated again immediately had fucked him up royally. 

Internally, he felt dry and rotten. Suddenly, for the first time ever, he felt as old as he was. As used as he was. His instinct to strap on his shield to leave this feeling behind was as alive as ever. Only his body was forced to his knees. 

The realization came to him in a dream. But it wasn't a dream. It was one of the memories from before he woke up here. 

The image of his boots. How he fastened the clasps with leather-gloved hands. Red boots. Red boots that he hadn't worn in ages. Red boots to a suit that he hadn't worn in ages. It didn't make sense for him to be in uniform, if all that was left of Captain America had been an arrest warrant. 

He was on a mission, but they didn't do missions anymore. They did escape plots and hideaways. They did masks and hoodies. And costumes only to pass a border unnoticed. 

But not that day. That day Steve had been on a mission. That day Steve had been Captain America. 

He had tried to follow that image in his dream. Follow it deeper into his mind. Follow it into the story that was hiding from him. 

It didn't work. It blurred and faded, rinsed through his grip. It was always just around the corner, but whenever Steve turned another thought, it was already gone. Already gone or took him back to the locker room. Took him back to the uniform. Neatly ironed, neatly cleaned. Sometimes someone else's breath on his neck. But when he turned, it all fell black. Just the feeling of processed leather between his fingertips remained. Strapping it through the buckles. Tight for a good run. Tight for a good fight. 

He woke up with sweat trailing down his chest and numb fingers where he'd cut off his bloodstream with his own weight on his arm. Pain from the bruises that never got a chance to heal. 

They came for Carol first. Of course they did. For the daily dosage. They never came for Eddie that day. Never came for Steve. 

But that didn't mean that they were left alone. _They hit you preemptively._ Eddie bled from a cut over his eyebrow. He used one of the shirts to apply pressure on the wound. No one had asked about the t-shirts. A terrible thought forced its way into Steve's mind. No one had asked, because no one cared. No one had come to interrupt their symbiote swapping session earlier, because they couldn't be bothered. None if this meant anything to them. There was a chance they had laughed even at their attempts to keep each other alive. It didn't matter to them, because they didn't feel threatened. They felt secure enough with their own system. They felt confident enough to know that they'll get what they were after eventually. And then they would just discard of their bodies. Having taking everything of them that mattered here. 

Even if Venom would come to full force here in their cell, how far could he make it? _It's on everywhere._ Every rampage would soon die out. Just outside the door Venom and Eddie would be reduced to a pain-filled sweaty mess. 

Venom wasn't scary to them. Steve wasn't scary to them. Maybe Carol was scary to them, but Steve had the feeling that they wouldn't hesitate blowing her up preemptively too. And then just take from her body what they could recover alive. Or barely alive. 

Eddie's face was still red and partially swollen when Steve pulled himself back up to check on his own body. Someone had battered his knee with a bat but it still hurt less than his foot, where one of the guards had stepped on his broken toes. 

Steve still felt it. The urge to move over now. Hide away at Eddie's side, drape Eddie's arm over his own shoulder and bury his face in the soft spot between nipple and armpit. 

Steve was a mess. 

But he couldn't stop staring at it. At that spot with the tender skin and black lines mocking him with their presence. 

He couldn't stop staring at the body he felt he knew, had known. Should know. 

It itched him to ask when he was left there alone with Eddie. Ask Venom to help him recover those last steps before he ended up here. He wondered if Eddie knew too. If he knew all about Steve through the symbiote. He was too scared to ask. 

He was ashamed of what might come to light. How far he would go. How far he had already gone. Not just for the good of the world. But for his own selfish reasons. No matter how often he'd tell himself they weren't selfish at all. 

Maybe Eddie would get it. Maybe that's why he remained so quiet about it all. Maybe he knew better than to judge what was done out of love. Or maybe he didn't knew anything at all. 

It was selfish now too, thinking of Bucky. Before, before Tony and their fight, thinking of Bucky had only ever hurt. Had ignited guilt in every part of his body, tore him to pieces slowly. Thinking of how he lost Bucky to the war first. Then the second time when he lost Bucky to the Winter Soldier. 

Not now though. Now he could tell himself that Bucky was safe. That Bucky was with Nat and with Sam. That Bucky was coming to save him this time around. That it was Bucky who he longed for. Not Eddie. 

Now he tried to recall it all. The looks from before the war. And the shy glances now. The hugs and the gentle pats on the back. The arms, the shoulders. Sometimes a bare finger on the skin of Steve's neck. 

And it came to him so easy now, so comforting. Knee against knee under the table. Buck's stance so wide it brought a foot between Steve's. Their elbows touching right before sleep. And then again first thing in the morning. 

But that wasn't just everything he could recall now. No matter how much Steve wanted to linger in these moments. He remembered the knee pulling away as the door opened, and the elbow disappearing once the first word of the day was spoken. Buck's foot gone from Steve's personal space at the first stir of the world around them. 

It was worse even. He felt it now; his hand slipping from Buck's back as he pulled away. A nervous smile hiding the rejection. Throughout the night, Bucky's back turned. And the way he rarely dodged Steve's touch altogether, stupid joke on his lips and a stupid grin to go with. Steve remembered laughing with him then. Now it hurt. A different kind of pain. 

Those weren't his memories. They couldn't have been. But the feelings remained achingly familiar. The deep restless burn of rejection. 

All he wanted was to rid himself of it. Of the doubt and the staggering thoughts that slowed everything down. He didn't have time for this. 

Eddie watched him too. Watched Steve try to move his toes with concern. If only Venom had been kind enough to fix those before. If only he had been strong enough. Or resented Steve less. 

Never before in his life had Steve been this thankful for the distraction of pain. It was all physical. It had a place and a cause. It was reasonable. 

Nothing else that he felt was reasonable. Understandable to him. It was chaos. A mayhem of emotions that caused his heart to race when he needed a calm base. 

He let Eddie watch. He did it out of spite. If towards Venom or Bucky he couldn't even tell. He ran a hand down his own chest. Felt over the muscles as if to check for damage and wounds. After all, this wasn't foreign to him either. He had been a soldier and a pin-up. And it was only human for him to revert to what he knew best. 

He turned his arm outward. Checked over those bruises while he was at it. They were almost black now too, almost like those traces under Eddie's skin, but with green and yellow shadows circling them. He traced a finger over the sore skin, wondering how long it had been since it had taken him so long to heal. 

Eddie's eyes had shyly followed Steve's hands partly hidden behind the white stained fabric. They've held their silence for too long. But Steve didn't have a thing to say. Any word would reveal too much. Ask too much. 

So Steve took his hands from his arms to his jaw, over the short hairs to his ears. He had no recollection of shaving before he came here, but he must have. He must have for the mission. 

Even the shell of his ear was sore to the touch. There were always flakes of dried blood somewhere. Something wasn't right there either. It terrified Steve, but he had nowhere to take his worries. 

"Venom thinks it may have helped you," Eddie said quietly. He was braver than Steve thought. "That you can't hear properly. Possibly spared you some pain through the bond." 

"It still hurt like a b-," Steve started but cut himself off. He didn't know why. He didn't mind cursing in times of distress. Or any other time really. 

Eddie smiled at him. "You've got something-," he mentioned, but then just gestured towards Steve's back. "Mind if I?" he asked, but he was already moving closer. 

Wordlessly, Steve turned around. He didn't know if he did mind or not. He liked Eddie's hands, but he didn't liked to be touched where his eyes couldn't follow. 

"Just tell me if it hurts," Eddie said before he rubbed the pad of his thumb over Steve's spine. Just below his shoulder blades. 

In any other scenario, a moan had probably slipped from Steve's lips; it was simply a good spot to be touched like this. 

It didn't hurt. At all. Instead, Steve felt some relief, some tension being straightened out from under his skin. Eddie's touch was firm and confident, but never too much. Always on the side of just a little too short. Too fleeting. Too friendly to be loving. 

Did Venom feel it too? Did he know where Steve liked to be touched? Needed to be touched even? Was it his knowledge guiding Eddie's hand? 

"It's just dirt," Eddie told him, rubbed the spot clean. "From the boots or the floor." 

If only it had just been that one spot. But Eddie moved over his left shoulder blade too, with warm strokes of his palm. And then his fingers slipped down to the right side of Steve's lower back, finger wiping over a sensitive spot. 

Rationally, there was no need for Steve to be self-conscious, and yet here he was, blushing over being touched just above the waistband, where his body was a little softer than anywhere else on his torso. On that vulnerable spot above his kidney. 

Part of Steve wanted to return the touch. Turn around and discover Eddie's body through more tactile senses. He wanted his hands on Eddie. Period. But he feared that his touch wouldn't be as welcomed. 

"Eddie?" he started finally, more out of resignation than courage. "Can I ask you something?" he dared to wonder. "It's about Venom?" 

The touch stilled for a moment, but then Eddie's finger resumed its gentle circling. "Go ahead," he encouraged Steve. "He's dozing anyway." 

"Sleeping?" Steve asked surprised. It hadn't occurred to him at all that maybe Venom wasn't consciously present at all times either. 

"Basically," Eddie said. His touches jerked a little as if he had shrugged, but Steve wasn't sure about it. "More like an afternoon nap thing." 

"He said something to me," Steve admitted quietly. Somehow he feared now to wake Venom from his slumber. "Something about my memories." 

"Yeah? What'd he say?" Eddie asked. His hands had wandered to the side of Steve's hips where they brushed dust from the scabs of a slightly older cut. 

"That I shouldn't worry about them," Steve just said. "And I wonder," he paused, not sure if he really should ask. "And I wonder if he may have told you about it?" 

”Being with someone new," Eddie started to explain. "For Venom, at first it's all a big blur. Very messy. It takes a while to sort through the chaos," he told Steve. "We started making piles, you know," he snorted over his own words. Steve didn't really get what was so funny about it, but he didn't want to interrupt. "In my head, our head," Eddie corrected. "There's a little Venom-pile and then there's a little me-pile. And on top of that there is a gigantic we-pile as well. He doesn't go through my pile. Not ever. Not since those first chaotic days. And I don't wade through his stuff either. Everything that is shared, is shared voluntarily. By choice." 

On the back of his shoulder, Steve could feel Eddie's breaths. Flashbacks of his memory. The locker room and the boots. And someone behind him. Way too close. Steve shook it off. Grounded himself by shifting his weight onto his injured foot. 

"If he saw something when he was bonded to you, it wasn't because he was prying on purpose," Eddie assured him. 

"It's just that I can't even remember myself," Steve admitted. "What Venom knows. I don't even remember what he was talking about." 

"Oh," Eddie said, thinking about it for a moment. "And you want me to ask?" 

This time, Steve went with his instinct to turn around and face Eddie. He hadn't noticed before how he was just that bit smaller, just those two or three inches. He hadn't realized that Eddie had to look up to meet his gaze. Through glistering lashes that were wet from sweat and blood. His lips were parted although Steve didn't want to go there, didn't want to ask himself why his eyes had been drawn down to his mouth. 

"I don't know," Steve said. The single most honest thing to reveal yet. He was scared to know. Scared to be told from someone he found difficult to trust. "I don't know yet." 

Eddie nodded. And Steve felt ashamed to admit to himself that he liked this. Having Eddie to himself. The symbiote had really fucked with his mind. 

They were standing too close. From here Steve could see more of the still oozing wound on Eddie's eyebrow. With no regard of what was acceptable between them, or unacceptable, he wiped his thumb over the skin below it. Caught some of the blood, so it wouldn't get into Eddie's eye. 

Maybe he shouldn't have slept. 

Steve was better than sleep. The serum rendered the need for sleep almost mute. He was a soldier, was trained not to give into the temptation of sleep. Not on the battlefield. 

Eddie didn't pull away. Didn't turn or move. Instead he closed his eyes. It was impossible to tell time by now. How long had it been? Twenty-four hours? Forty-eight? Three days? They were both touched-starved. All that violence had amplified the more tender ways of bodily contact. 

Steve found himself wondering about Venom's touch. If Eddie was satisfied with whatever it was. If maybe alien touch superseded human contact. If maybe he even loathed it now, having Steve's skin on his. 

Eddie didn't look like he loathed it. But insecurity kindled in the back of Steve's head. Something about being wrong about these things before. Nothing he liked to chase. Instead, he ran the back of his fingers down Eddie's cheek, lingered over Venom's black veins, that didn't stir at all. 

"Think he exhausted himself," Eddie said, rasp voice through soft lips. He didn't open his eyes as he talked. "Trying to heal whatever he could as it happened." 

Steve nodded, didn't say anything but Eddie's words worried him. If Venom didn't bother to heal an open wound, he was forced to focused on worse damage. Internal bleeding. A concussion. Swelling of the brain. He didn't like thinking further about it. 

"Is he alright," Steve asked. Hesitantly added, "are you alright?" Of course they weren't. How could they be. 

"Yeah," Eddie said, answering the underlying question of 'Are you sure he's still alive?' "Can sense him drowsing," he added and put his hand on the side of his ribcage as he spoke. "Mostly here." 

There was no definite explanation for what possessed Steve to put his hand there too, feeling for traces of a sleeping symbiote. Eddie didn't mind. He guided Steve's hand over the right spot. Steve couldn't feel Venom. Not like Eddie could. But the emptiness inside him flared back up and he missed the symbiote in a way he didn't before. 

"I didn't hurt him, did I?" Steve asked. He was unsure how he could have. But there had been too much talk about him accidentally killing Venom for Steve to not worry about it. 

Eddie shook his head, he looked back up at Steve, but his silence wasn't really in accordance with his denial. 

"What is it?" Steve asked, obviously worried now. 

"He's just-," Eddie began, "you know, a little quieter than before." There was doubt in his eyes whether or not he should go on. In the end he chose truth over convenience. "He almost feels tame now, you know? Not all the time. He doesn't feel weaker, he just mouths off a little less." Eddie laughed but Steve could tell that it wasn't funny to him at all. It was worrying and almost unbearable to him. 

"So I broke him," Steve figured, saying out loud what Eddie wouldn't. 

"He still thinks your head would make a good snack," Eddie assured him, but none of it made Steve feel any better. "I'm sure he'll be back to his old self once we're out of here." 

"Right," Steve said, thinking about how they still hadn't had a plan. Now he was embarrassed with what he occupied his thoughts instead. "Maybe those memories would help," he said, reminded himself that he couldn't be in denial about it. "Maybe we can ask Venom once he's awake." 

Eddie nodded, released Steve's hand from his grip. Not at all rushed though. And Steve took his time in return to pull off him completely. There was no use in rushing Venom with the memories either. If there had been some blatant solution to their situation, the symbiote would have told Eddie immediately. Of that Steve was sure. In the meantime, he would just try to get himself to a place where the memories would return to him naturally. Where he wasn't as scared of feelings he couldn't place. Of moments he couldn't tell were real. 

The meantime meant watching over Eddie shortly after as he allowed himself some rest too. It meant waiting for Carol to be returned. Bearing her silence afterwards. Bearing her anger and her pain. Holding her again for the sake of his own sanity. Meantime meant forcing down tasteless food and making up elaborate theories about how Hydra had survived SHIELD's implosion. Meant laying down SHIELD's history for Carol and retelling his own story. 

Meantime meant watching Eddie not reacting to Steve's past. Not reacting to Steve's age. Not reacting to the single mention of Sergeant James 'Bucky' Barnes. Watching him laugh though over how Carol had learned that there were cats and that there were flerken. Watching him listening to Venom and reciting all the symbiote's thoughts on those to them. 

When they came to get Carol the next time, they took Steve too. Forced him back on a table and back into the laboratory. The examination room. 

Had he thought about how this would continue to go? Part of Steve had hoped, some kind of routine had already been established. He couldn't have been more wrong. 

As he was lying there, under the blinding light, helplessly gagged, cuffed and strapped with nowhere to twist and turn, it wasn't earring-guy who stepped to his side. It was another guard. Someone he had no recollection of seeing before. He was tall and angry-looking. Wearing the same old black uniform and a snapback over his hair. 

"You sure you don't want a sample?" he asked someone behind Steve's head. "What if the symbiote made him sterile?" He chuckled over his cruel remark, but he was the only one in the room who did. There seemed to always be that one guy with that sickening sense of humor. "What if all his swimmers are dead black goo now?" 

So they did know. They did know about Steve bonding with Venom. They knew that it had already happened. 

"Don't worry about things that concern my job," the person behind Steve said. It was the same doctor as last time. The one who had injected the hormones into his stomach. "I fear your brain couldn't take it," they said and then Steve followed their footsteps with his ear until they were gone for good. 

Maybe in another life Steve could have been able to laugh at that. He felt that the guard deserved it. 

The guy grunted in response, but Steve could tell he didn't like to be humiliated in front of his prisoner. When he slapped on the latex gloves, the waves of his aggression caused Steve to shudder. 

The guy reached for the tube of medical lube and squeezed a full load onto his palm. Then he pulled back the waistband of Steve sweatpants and tore them down with a hard wrench. He yanked them so forcefully that the fabric slid over Steve's butt despite the fact that he was lying on it. 

Without any warning he took hold of Steve's soft cock who jerked over the icy liquid that suddenly engulfed the sensitive skin. The lube was colder than that time before. Much colder. It felt more like punishment than a means to ease the way. 

With visible disinterest, the guy set a moderate rhythm of short movements as to not lose grip on the slippery still soft cock. 

"Physical enhancement, huh?" he mumbled to himself. "Probably better for combat to be a grower." He chuckled again and Steve thrashed against his restraints. 

His mind went blank with revulsion and his body refused to be used. It gave Steve a rare moment of feeling empowered, but it only made the guard more pissed about the slow process. 

"Little shy, are we?" he said, addressing Steve now shamelessly. He even looked down at him and winked when Steve screamed his rage into his gag. "I never liked those guys who got skittish jerking off," he went on. "You don't need to get weird when it's a boys' club. If you get weird, the whole thing gets weird. And then you just ruin it for everyone else." 

Clearly that guy had issues, but Steve didn't have time to dissect all of them. Frustration was building within the guard's hand and even despite the lube the friction started to hurt.

"You're awfully slow for a virgin," he said, rambled now as if Steve was nothing more than an inconvenience to a shitty day at a shitty job. And he probably was just that now. Steve was ruining it for all of them. "Or maybe the rumors weren't true after all. Maybe Captain America got his turn with the ladies." He threw Steve another look and then shook his head as if he had decided that it couldn't have been. That Steve was too ugly or too boring to get laid. "The doctors said the hormones would make this easy, but I guess that was a fucking lie." 

He tried to adjust his grip, tighter on the base, looser at the crown, and squeezed a little more lube onto the tip. The icy liquid didn't help, but he laughed to himself when Steve flinched. If this guy was a sadist, Steve needed to prepare for much worse. 

"Or maybe those other rumors were true after all, huh?" that guy considered but went on with his rhythm mercilessly. "Maybe even an extra dose of hormones couldn't get you going. But I'm not gonna put my finger up your ass," he said and laughed again like an idiot. 

Yeah, Steve had guessed those were the other kind of rumors he was referring to. 

"It's not gay to like it up the ass," he said then, reminding Steve of all those issues he had that could use some immediate unpacking. "We've both been in the military, right? I guess with your legs and your ass, yours wasn't even the worst hole around." 

For a split second, Steve froze, couldn't do anything but stare. That guy's thought process was a whole different level of fucked up. 

"You really can't get it up, can you?" he asked and sighed with annoyance. "They make so much fuss about your juice," he said with an expression of disgust. "Guess they were aware how hard we gotta work for it." He looked down at Steve's cock and gave it another resigned squeeze. "And we were out there wondering what took so long last time." 

Steve bit onto the gag in his mouth. Part of him was glad that the fact that earring-guy had uncuffed at least one of his hands and let Steve take care of things had remained a secret. 

"Don't you dare think that I enjoy this," the guy said annoyed, almost angry now. Somehow he seemed offended that Steve's body didn't comply. Offended that he had to keep touching it. 

"What does a guy like you need, huh?" he asked Steve, because he was oblivious to the fact that what everyone needed was for him to shut the fuck up. "What kind of kinks does Captain America have?" 

Because he was a sadist and an asshole, the guy tugged on Steve's cock a couple of times and made a conscious effort to dig his fingers into the skin of Steve's sac and grab a handful before he did so. 

"You annoy me, Rogers," he informed Steve of the obvious, but Steve's main concern was the use of his actual name. Somehow he had gotten used to being something else here. Something less than a person, but less than a person to them. He didn't want to be himself in front of them. They could humiliate Captain America here, but he refused to give them Steve Rogers. 

"You know what? Maybe I shouldn't have spoken so soon," the guy said and this time, when his hand slid down to the base he let his fingers brush right over Steve's balls so that his middle finger could part Steve's cheeks and nudge against his rim. 

Out of shock, Steve's entire body tightened and his legs jerked so hard again the straps that the pain shot right from his ankle, from his knee , from his toes into every last muscle and bone. 

The guy laughed again, of course he did, but this time, the shock and the fear and the ongoing, relentless stimulation finally took its toll. The second Steve noticed his cock eventually filling out, tears started to fill his eyes, and his body started leaking drops of salty fluid where the stress ached for relief. He didn't know if he should feel relief or betrayal. He felt both. Back and forth, and then it was all buried beneath humiliation. 

"Now we're on the same page," the guy said, moving his hand with more precision now. He let a finger dip between Steve's cheeks on every tenth stroke or so. There wasn't much room obviously, but he seemed to enjoy the mere tension his attempts caused in Steve's body, the mere look of panic on Steve's face whenever he threatened him with more force. With more insistence. 

When Steve jerked so hard, his hips bucked up from the table, the guy grinned. "My girl does the same thing whenever I get too close to her ass," he said and pushed Steve down with his other hand. "It's always the ones who like it the most that pretend to be offended by the suggestion. I bet you served those troops right and enjoyed every minute of it." 

If Venom was still out for snacks, Steve wouldn't mind feeding this guy to him. It was that fantasy that Steve held onto to drown out that guy's ramblings. He could see them right there; Eddie under layers of the symbiote. White teeth and a slithering tongue out for blood. 

He imagined Venom bursting through the doors, ripping that guy's hand from Steve. Not just from Steve but off that guy's wrist altogether. 

Knowing it was futile, Steve didn't bother to worry about his climax. But he was determined to keep quiet once more. Let it happen as the bodily function it was. Put it aside as meaningless reflex. 

He wasn't here. He was somewhere else. With Carol, with Venom, with Eddie. With Bucky. He was far away, too far away to engage, too far away to protest. Too far away to perceive what was happening around him as real. 

He shut his eyes tight, rolled his head over to the side thinking not of the sounds his cock made in the guard's fist, but of the sounds that guy's brain would made in between Venom's teeth. 

"Pathetic," the guy said when it happened and Steve spilled himself over the guard's gloved hand. But it was only Venom's voice that Steve heard, mocking his tormentor instead. 

"What a fucking piece of work," the guy said and shook out his hand, drops of come falling onto Steve's softening cock and the skin over his lower stomach. "I know guys like you," he said, but Steve didn't even bother to turn his head. "I know guys like you want to be fucked by guys like me." He leaned in closer, but Steve refused to acknowledge it. "I've got enough on my plate than to let sluts like you get to me." 

The guy's breaths were hot and wet against Steve's face. Clearly he was worked up about what he did to Steve. But for all the wrong reasons. And he projected all that self-loathing onto Steve. 

"Fucking sluts who can't leave a guy alone," he added and for a full second Steve expected to be spat on. That guy liked to perpetrate sexual violence and he despised Steve for being his victim. It hadn't been Steve's orgasm that he had deemed pathetic, it had been Steve's passivity over it. Dissociation caused anger. Frustration. Resentment. Caused Hatred. It wasn't fun for him if Steve refused to play. 

Instead of spitting on him though, he just turned around then and walked out with heavy steps, door slamming shut behind him.  

Nevertheless, Steve's mind refused to return yet. Stayed in safer waters, filled with monsters that fed on bullies. 

It took a couple of minutes for a different guard to walk in. Not just any guard. Of course not. It was earring-guy who wiped the cooling mess off Steve's body. Earring-guy who pulled Steve's pants back up. Who even checked the bruises over the veins of Steve's arms. Wiped them with antiseptics. And then, quietly, he taped Steve's broken toe to the one beside it, as Steve had planned to long before, giving its bones a chance to grow back together somewhat naturally. 

If he was sorry that he hadn't been around earlier, he didn't say it. He didn't say anything at all. And neither did Steve. Maybe it was there in earring-guy's actions, but Steve didn't want to hear. Didn't want to see. 

He still wanted only Venom to speak for him. 

 


	7. Chapter 7

That day, that night, whatever time it was, back in their cell, when he sat there with the back against the wall again, Steve thought about revenge once more. About the moment of retribution. 

Neither of the others had forced him to talk. It was usually him who asked. Him who thought words were better than silence. That tears were better than silence. Him who argued that this was no place of secrets, or shame, or privacy. 

Part of him felt in the wrong now. Because it was comforting not to talk. There were no words anyway, were there? For what had happened? He was unharmed, but he wasn't untouched. He felt violated, but he felt unable to recall the violence. It happened, but he couldn't believe it happened to him. And yet it had happened. For a second time. 

Neither of the others had asked and they hadn't touched him either. No one rushed to hug him. To hold him. Had he been wrong about that too? His brain reasoned that it was out of respect. There was a chance, after all, that what had happened to him somehow showed on his face. Or on his body. That no one wanted to impose further. And yet it made him feel as ugly as that guard's look. As appalling as that guard's words. And a wave of nausea hit him all over again. 

Carol sat next to him, just at a foot's distance. She didn't touch him. She just sat there, legs spread out wide with her hair in her face and the injured hands in her lap. 

It was inevitable for Steve's head not to go there. To not see the similarities. To Nat. To Bucky. It distracted him from the urge to throw up. They were out there looking for him. And what they would find wouldn't appall them. They wouldn't mind touching him. Sam wouldn't mind touching him. He'd come back to himself with them. 

"Steve?" It was Eddie's voice, and when Steve looked up he was hovering just in front of him. "Come on, you can't stay like this. It's been too long." 

How long, Steve thought, but he couldn't bring himself to speak. He didn't feel like he could. He knew he'd sound just the same and he couldn't bear the thought of that. Nothing had changed. He was making a fuss about nothing. 

He had been naked in front of doctors and scientists before. They had touched him and looked at him. Groups of men had laughed about him before. He had been called worse than _slut_ before. He'd been called dense, and dumb, and embarrassingly naive. And a fascist. 

He looked away from Eddie's concerned face. Looked down to his knees, right there up against his chin. They were so close he couldn't make them out clearly and his eyes crossed as he tried. He noticed now how much he had crumbled in onto himself, shoulders hunched and with his elbows up. For how long he couldn't say. Eddie said it had been _too_ long. 

But that didn't make sense to Steve. 

Prompted by Eddie's nervous stance who just refused to move back and away, Steve felt through his body. He couldn't feel much. His hands were cold and his feet were cold. His mouth was dry. Something hurt, but something always hurt somewhere, so it barely registered as something extraordinary anymore. With a shock he realized that it was still there, the ghost of the unwelcomed touches. Latex that slipped past and later stuck to the skin and the hairs on his most intimate places. His stomach turned. 

Trying to feel had to be avoided at all costs. 

"Come on," Eddie said again and when his hand suddenly appeared in Steve sight, he flinched and pulled his head away. 

"Don't," Carol said and it took Steve a second to realize that she was talking to Eddie and not him. 

"He needs to at least get away from the door," Eddie told her. "He'll be in harm's way for sure like that." Steve frowned at that, but Eddie was right. He hadn't been sitting with his back against the wall but the door to their cell. 

Still somewhat bewildered, Steve looked back up at Eddie. Maybe they had asked. Suddenly, he felt like there may have been a distant memory of it. Maybe someone had even tried to hold him. Maybe they both had, but he couldn't recall what happened after. Maybe he had pushed them away. 

In a surge of panic, he slapped both his arms back and looked for recent puncture wounds. Checked the back of his hands and the veins on his neck. Nothing. But it hadn't been that bad, Steve thought to himself. It couldn't have been worse than the drugs. Worse than the kicks and the punches. He wouldn't black out just because someone had touched his dick, would he? 

Would he? 

Surely Carol had been through worse. Eddie almost died. And here he was, the drama queen, making everything about himself. 

He cleared his throat, desperately searching his head for something to say. An explanation. An excuse. Anything really. 

Then he dropped his shoulder, finding himself empty handed. He shook his head, daring a glance towards Carol. She looked bored like a lot of the times. But Steve couldn't blame her. Apparently, they had been sitting here like this for too long. 

When he looked back up at Eddie, he seemed less worried. Less concerned as Steve came back to life. 

Venom was awake. He was moving beneath Eddie's skin. It could have been nothing more than imagination, or projection, but for the first time Steve could actually see that the symbiote was miserable. That it, too, felt the torture deep in their core and how it had been going on for too long. 

"We have to target the earpieces," Steve realized. He kept his voice low and quiet. Almost a whisper. It was deliberate. Calculated. And although his voice was subtle and faint, his words were clear. It left him feel ashamed. Irritated. And detached from his experience. It hadn't changed him. Although it had. "We have to get our hands on a pair," he pushed on, pushed through. There was always a fight somewhere. He couldn't afford self-pity. "Those aren't for communication," he told them, barely audible in case anyone on the outside was listening in. "They neutralize the frequencies." 

He lifted his head to face Eddie directly this time. As directly as he could without standing up. There was a moment of surprise, of confusion before Eddie understood entirely what Steve was getting at. 

Dead silence hung between them. Even the symbiote held its breath. Somewhere in his mind, Steve could sense that moment of retaliation already crystallizing in the future. So clear as if it had already happened. 

It was coming towards them. 

He'd let Venom speak for him after all. And maybe then it would be Steve, Steve as that guy in the room with the sick humor, who laughed when nobody else did. He wouldn't mind it then. 

"It's a plan," was all that Eddie said and he held out his hand to help Steve to his feet. For someone who was harboring and co-suffering with a symbiote in severe physical distress, the strength of Eddie's bicep was surprisingly intact. Steve was pulled to his feet within the blink of an eye and it took his knees a second to catch on. 

When they did, Steve didn't bother. He fell diving into Eddie's embrace, with one cheek against his naked shoulder. He liked this. Not because he could recognize his own in Eddie's form, and with his own Bucky's by proxy, but because he recognized in him the ever interchangeable male frame of their abusers. And he longed for the reminder that it wasn't designed for violence. That he wasn't designed for violence. That Bucky wasn't. 

A quiet suspicion flickered through his thoughts that it was another residue of Venom that intrinsically connected Eddie to serenity and kindness. To  the comfort of home. Filled with chocolate and tater tots on lazy Sundays. A craving unknown to Steve. Fries, sure. But not deep fried potato puffs. After all, they were invented while he had been long in the ice already. 

Eddie hugged him back with the promise of that fantasy. The promise of that memory that wasn't Steve's. With both arms that held Steve down to the tips of Eddie's fingers, strong and forgiving imprints on the back of Steve's shoulder. The far side of his flank. Not once contemplating rejection. 

If the symbiote hissed at Steve's proximity, Eddie buried it within himself. If it hissed at Carol's proximity, Eddie buried it within himself too. She hadn't exactly draped herself over Steve's back, although the idea of it was definitely something Steve wasn't opposed to right now, but she put her splayed hand right in the heart of where his body was untouched by Eddie, spread her heat from there and it felt no less blanketing. Doubtlessly despite some agony that it must have caused her. 

It was all sorts of wrong and right to stay like this far longer than appropriate. To use Eddie for all sorts of unfounded maladaptive short-term coping. No one had hugged Steve when he came out of the ice. His coping mechanisms had been maladapted since then. 

When Steve pulled back, the taste of salt stuck to his lips. He hadn't asked for this kind of physicality. To know the taste of Eddie's sweat. It would stay with him for far too long too. It would nourish him through what came next. 

 

It was difficult to recall exactly how he ended up with Carol in between the v of his legs. If she had just moved there with purpose or if he had pulled her in that last bit himself. If he had still looked touch-starved and she wanted to comfort him without putting any more strain on her hands. If he had just sat himself down with such an arrogant wide posture that she wanted to teach him a lesson. 

However it happened, fact was that she was leaning her weight against his chest now, the back of her one hand on his thigh, the other on her own. She wasn't pressed against him with purpose, but with the way she had just relaxed into his body, she had left rarely any part of Steve's front without contact. Mostly around his shoulders. Nothing really was without exposure to her body heat below his navel. Not his pelvis, not his penis. Not the inner parts of his thighs. Having Carol this close cured him of the ghost touches. Of the intrusiveness of those precise memories. And then, he did pull her in, just a little closer, just a little more flush. He held her there with an arm slung around her waist, felt the ups and downs of her calm breaths. 

Despite her healing presence to him and Steve's persistent attachment, she didn't visibly acknowledge their intimate vicinity. She was, once again, bored. As Steve spoke to Eddie, she absently tried to lift each of her toes separately. She did alright until the third, but then couldn't manage the forth without the fifth or the middle one moving alongside it. It was distracting and calming at once, how she just kept going. Over and over, one after the other. Right foot, big toe first. Left foot, little toe last. Then from the beginning. 

When something Steve said, piqued her interest, she turned her head as if to look at him. But she never bothered bringing it around far enough for eye contact, she just looked at a random spot at the ceiling somewhere the direction of Steve's ear. At times, she reminded him of Nat so much, --her frown, the round cheeks on her profile, even her boredom--, he was tempted to place a fleeting kiss on her forehead. 

"There's no way to tell if it works," Eddie said, barely audible. He sat close enough to Steve, but somehow still managed to keep his body a safe distance from Carol. Probably to appease at least one of Venom's worries. It was the best he could do. They needed to stick together, as close as possible, because they couldn't risk giving their plan away. "It isn't just about mine," he added and put a finger against the shell of his ear. Almost as if he was just resting his head, tilted to the side. "It hurts Venom even if he was unbonded. I've seen it before." 

"Maybe it wouldn't get him to, let's say, a hundred percent," Steve argued, "but all I'm aiming for is a little over fifty. Might just be enough for us to get our hands on something else." He opened his hand and then, casually, pulled three fingers in, --miming a gun--, before, just as casually, stretching out his other fingers again. Just a couple of sore muscles and tight joints. Nothing to alert the guards. Eddie nodded. 

"The shirts helped," Steve reminded him. "Got him on some level. I can't help but wonder what a pair of those would do," he said and nodded towards Eddie's empty ears. Clearly hoping they weren't. 

Eddie contemplated a response. Maybe even contemplated Steve's capabilities after what he'd seen of him today. Contemplated his mental capacities. Consistencies. 

Regardless of his better judgement, Steve allowed his insecurities to creep in. Somehow, he felt the need to prove himself to Eddie. 

"I think I need to know now," Steve said determined. "The memories," he clarified. "Tell Venom to spill what he knows." It was supposed to sound casual, but he felt he came across rather cringeworthy. 

"You realize he can hear you, right?" Eddie said, but he smiled. And Steve felt his cheeks redden. 

"Where do you want to start?" Eddie asked, moving right on to business. Steve figured it meant Venom was wide awake and ready to go. 

"Maybe start with whatever closest to here. To now. Today, I mean," Steve stammered. He really sucked at this. 

Eddie looked at him as if he couldn't quite catch on. But then Steve realized that he was listening to Venom. Or talking to the symbiote even. "It's not really chronological," he said eventually. "Venom really only got glimpses of your memories." 

Steve wondered if ' _chronological_ ' was really a word the symbiote would choose. Somehow it sounded just a little too professional. Less nightmare-ish as he'd imagine. Not really like monster vernacular. 

Eddie looked like he was sorry for adding any complications. Steve wondered if Venom was too. 

"Then just whatever comes to mind first," he said. It didn't matter. All this was happening only to jump start his own mind anyway. 

"Uhm," Eddie hesitated. Whatever Venom was telling him, he seemed unsure to repeat it. "A sort of biker pirate?" Eddie tried then, searching Steve's face for any sign that he could take Venom's account for full. That the symbiote was being serious. 

"Fury," Steve said immediately and Carol stared at him perplexed. This time she turned her head far enough for Steve to meet her gaze. "The eyepatch," he reminded her as if it was obvious. But the look on her face didn't change. If anything, his words added to the confusion. 

She didn't bother to ask though, just let her head roll more comfortable to the side, ear against Steve's chest, and closed her eyes. Steve knew though that it didn't mean she was paying any less attention to their words. Or more. 

"Okay, so, Fury," Eddie went on, only glancing down at Carol once. "A meeting room. No windows. A tunnel." He just seemed to list whatever Venom threw his way. "Fury and a girl. A woman, I mean. She's familiar. Someone you know." 

"Nat," Steve said immediately and tried to picture it. A hideaway, a secret office. SHIELD headquarters. Whatever was left of SHIELD. Maybe Maria and not Natasha? No. 

Natasha. He could see her now. Another snapshot. Sharper than any dream could have been. Any imagination. 

_Nat in the tunnel. Next to him. A smile on her face. It was for him. For his comfort only. She doesn't believe they're doing the right thing._

_A long table. Too big for the three of them. Fury at it's head. Looking stern. Next to him Nat's fingers on the polished wood. Subtly playing with an empty bullet shell on the smooth surface. The sound of the rolling metal. Agitation that crawled from the inside of his ear right under his skin._

 

_Metal on wood. Bucky only some feet from him, leaning against the frame of the porch. Looking into the distance. Nature and sunset. Days prior to their meeting with Fury._

_The sound of Bucky's makeshift prosthetic brushing over the brittle plank then, whenever he shifted his body. Tony couldn't have been arsed to make a new one. Of course not. Nat shouldn't have asked. They were fugitives, traitors. Bucky had killed his parents._

_During those early days, Natasha went through Buck's files with Steve, looking for a manual. While Sam was working in the old shed. Day and night. Sometimes, Steve checked for the light in the barn from his window above. Eventually, Sam had taken apart his wings to give Bucky back both hands._

_There was Bucky, sneaking into the shed at night. The side of his bed still warm. And the odd certainty in Steve that losing an arm again hadn't made him any less lethal. Not to Steve._

_There was no reason for Bucky to wear the new arm all the time. No other reason than to fuck with the description circulating about them through their arrest warrant. Bucky with shorter hair now. Sam cutting it off. Reasonable. Natasha went blonde and Steve grew a beard. Sam who let Buck shave his head altogether._

_No other reason than to be unrecognizable. No other reason._

_Buck on the porch staring into the distance. Buck staring at his new arm. Sam's arm. No reason to wear it all the time. None. No other than sentimentality. Someone else stepping out behind Steve._

He jerked himself away from the memory. Couldn't bear what he didn't know and yet already knew. Couldn't bear to relive it here. 

"What else?" Steve asked Eddie hastily. Asked Venom. There were other memories to focus on. Right now, it was all mere patches but he told himself he could bring it all together in the end. Make sense of the whole story. Make sense of it all at once. 

"Weapons and shields," Eddie went on, either carefully phrasing or forced to wait on Venom's reports. "Lockers," he said and Steve knew they were going down the right path. "Mirrors. Costumes," Eddie added and Steve tried not to be offended. "The woman. A fight, a warning and a-," Eddie raised his eyebrows, glancing down at Carol once more, "-and a kiss." 

_The suit and the boots. He hadn't worn them in so long. They still fit. Made for just his body. In the small mirror, his own face. Shaved skin with his hair pushed back. The breaths on his neck. The reflection of someone else in the glass._

The girl. The woman. Nat. 

No. Not Nat. 

_Sharon right behind him. Shaking her head. "Don’t," the sound of her voice. Worry in her eyes. "Don't do it."_

 

 _“No one else can know," Fury had said, just hours before at the table. No one outside this room. This is off any and all books_.” 

_Next to Steve, Natasha who had pulled her head up. He threw a look across the table. Too big not for the three of them, but for the four of them. Sharon opposite of him. Straightened shoulders. Trying to make an impression._

 

_Back in the locker room. Her eyes angry and worried. "Don't you get it?" she had asked. "You're not even his prawn," she told him with fiery force, "you're just his bait."_

_She hissed at him, filled with outrage over his stupidity. All mixed with a proper dose of betrayal. Of indignation. Maybe just of someone who had once vouched to protect him. Maybe of someone who had once cared for him. A lot._

_He reached out for the shield._

_"It's a suicide mission," she insisted, maybe even hating him now for being so thickheaded. "I've seen the place, Steve. I've seen what they do there. It's not right. It's inhumane. But it's government-sanctioned. You're on your own in there. Whatever deal he offered won't matter once you're dead," she said, but they both knew it wasn't about what Steve got out of the deal._

_"I'm not doing it for me," Steve told her. His voice was calm but detached. He had convinced himself of that, long before he had to convince her. It was his truth now. It was all about what Buck would get out of the deal._

_She could see it in his eyes, and Steve could see in hers how much the realization stung. He empathized with it now more intimately than before. Felt sorry for his own shortcomings. Could relate to her jealousy now. Since Bucky and Bucharest. And Sam in the car with them. Since the banter. And the bickering. The jokes. The nicknames. All the things that used to be Steve's._

_"They're going to kill you, before anyone could find you," she whispers. One last plea. One last appeal. "No matter what he says." One last attempt to make him see clearly. To surrender faith in Fury._

_But Steve never had any in the first place. Steve knew how much Fury loved his speeches._ _About honor and duty. How much he loved his assemblies. His team leading aspirations. Being the center of command. But Steve hadn't been recruited. Like any other ancient artifact, Steve had been stolen._

_Sharon put her hands on his cheeks, he knew why by now. He knew what women like her were brave enough to do. She kissed him with soft, hot lips that had fought her battle with words. Now, as a last resort, she pleaded for his life with this. With closed eyes and gentle pressure, trying to part his lips for a deeper taste. The taste of him being alive._

_He pulled back at once with his head down. It wasn't like before. They had both been fooled._

"You okay?" Eddie asked gently. Steve's face felt flushed and he noticed that his fingers were shaking. His own lips tasting of Eddie still. He held onto Carol, who undoubtedly had already noticed his racing heart. 

"It wasn't like that,” he said immediately. An automatic response. He felt the inexplicable need to defend that kiss in front of Eddie. It wasn't really inexplicable. But Steve guessed that Venom might have actually relished in that part. Telling Eddie that Steve wasn't worth pursuing. The symbiote seemed vicious enough to do that. 

"What was it like?" Eddie asked. There had been no pause, no chance for Venom to interject. The question surprised Steve and even Carol cracked an eye open at that; sat up a little straighter and tilted her head back. 

"Yeah, Steve, what was it like?" she asked and smirked as they waited for Steve's explanation. 

"It was a goodbye, okay?" he tried and although he didn't like their nosey, teasing expressions and the knowing, devious look Carol and Eddie exchanged, it distracted him from the looming heartbreak that he was still in denial about. "Nothing more. It was a way to try to get to me. Stop me from going on this mission." 

"So this was a mission?" Carol asked, looking back up, but this time, past his ear to the ceiling again. 

_“Let me repeat myself on this one,” Fury went on as he had focused in on Steve. He must have had a hunch about not having his full attention._

_The air in the room was stale despite an ongoing relentless air conditioning. Summer heat glimmering on the pavements those six or so floors above. The thought of Buck's tanned back. Sun-soaked caramel skin apart from the scars that stood out white around his shoulder mostly. Sam's hand even darker at the nape of his neck. The thumb circling slowly. A tender caress. Bucky, who didn't pull away._

_“Remember that this is top secret." The image was wiped away by Fury's voice. "This mission is so secret, I don't want either of you ever mention it to me ever again. After you leave this room, this meeting never happened. After our mission is done, we forget it was ever discussed.”_

 

_Steve was used to silence by now. To after-silences. Awkward-silences. Bucky didn't need to be wiped anymore to forget about Steve. The two of them alone in the room. The moon in the window, but the night hadn't cooled the air. Bucky hardly ever got a word out. Avoided his eyes. The guilt keeping him painfully shy._

 

_“When I say no one, I mean no one.” The meeting room, the table and Nat to his side. Fury's tone conveyed stress and he pointedly looked at Natasha. But even then Steve knew already that she wouldn't tell Clint. They weren't on speaking terms as of now._

_"So what exactly is it that you want us to do?" Nat had asked. "What's the job?"_

_“There is a top-secret army base in the middle of nowhere. No one knows the exact location. Only a meeting point for further transportation. You'll fly out before dawn,” Fury stated. “Some shit is going down there. Genetic engineering, medical experimentation. An entire scientific horror show. One of my, unofficial, agents ended up stationed at that base for a week." It was clear that he was talking about Sharon. Sharon who had been SHIELD, had been FBI and CIA. Had apparently been Fury's recently. Unofficially. "We discovered that someone else was held there. One of mine as well, you could say. Someone special. And special to me. I need you to find her. Save her. Bring her here. Destroy the base while you're at it.”_

"The mission was to save you," Steve said, locked eyes with Carol when she brought almost her whole body around between his legs. Her knee just close enough from kicking Steve in the gut. 

"Fury knows I'm here?" she asked in surprise but her eyes turned soft. Steve put a finger over his lips. They needed to keep their voices low still. 

_"If you return her to me alive," Fury had promised, facing Steve, in a manner all too familiar to any war veteran: Captain to captain. "I'll take care of those charges. Make the arrest-warrants disappear and you and your friends can start over your life in peace. But this mission is an inside job. It can never, under all circumstances, ever be traced back to us. Back to me.”_

"He knew I'm here and he immediately sent out a mission to get me," Carol said again, but this time barely more than a whisper. She looked pleased with the realization. "He sent you, but still," she shrugged but then smiled at Steve. Despite of what Bucky used to say about him being too serious all the time, too heavy-minded, he could take a joke. 

She nudged her elbow against his ribcage and he pretended it hurt, rubbing his palm over the spot. He couldn't stop himself though, from glancing over at Eddie, worried that he hadn't moved on from the mention of the kiss just yet. 

There was a small pause where they just looked at each other, when Steve licked his lips for reassurance, for his own taste of someone being alive, and things could have stayed like this. Lighter despite the assault of the morning. Of whatever time it had been. 

But Eddie already knew that that wasn't the end of it. That the kiss hadn't been the end of it. 

"That wasn't all that Venom saw, was it?" Steve asked. Needing Venom to nudge his brain a little again. "Just say what else." 

"Blood," Eddie said. "A shot and a bullet. The girl again." By now Steve was somewhat convinced those flashes of memories weren't enough for Venom to tell Nat and Sharon apart. To the symbiote they might as well be the same person. "A phone and someone yelling. A plane," he kept going, listing it all. This time Steve could almost hear Venom's voice mingling with Eddie's. He shuddered and Carol went tense in his arm. "Or a helicopter. A needle. And then pain." 

The phone. The phone call. 

 _He'd_ _stood outside the meeting room in the dark, narrow corridor. The meeting had been over. It had been a while since he'd used a phone like this. Sturdy and screwed to the wall. But he remembered them from before the war. This one wasn't as old though._

_The line rang. There was no corner, no booth for privacy so he turned his back and stepped closer. No one answered, but he pressed the phone's receiver closer to his face anyway. Longing for a voice on the other side._

 

_A cellphone in his hand long before Fury and the mission. Sam had thrown it into his lap one afternoon. "Shouldn't be traceable," he said. "Just in case."_

_Steve had stared at it. It hadn't looked any different from those he'd seen before. But what did he know. He wouldn't even use it. He had no one to call. They were all here with him. He knew Bucky didn't need to contact anyone either. Buck didn't have any contacts. Wanda and Vision had left long ago to find a life somewhere else. But he knew that maybe one day, Nat would want to reach out to Clint. That's why he had asked Sam for a little help._

_"What's that for?" Nat had asked later, when Steve placed the phone on her nightstand. He didn't have to answer. She nodded. There were tears in her eyes, but she was too stubborn to let even one fall. Steve wiped her cheek with a thumb anyway._

 

_It was the same dumb phone that he tried to call then, hoping someone would hear it ring under layers of clothes in the back of a drawer. Hoping someone would answer._

_He draped one arm over the phone's box by the wall. Letting the bullet shell drop from his finger and thumb only to catch it again a second later. He was nervous._

 

_"I fear we're at the verge of being found out," Fury had told them just minutes before in the meeting room. "Lucky, for us," he had hesitated, looked at Sharon for a second, but she refused to meet his eye, "we have just what they want. And giving it to them will restore their trust in my agent." This time he even pointed at her._

_"Steve," Nat had guessed. She couldn't be fooled. She knew enough of  HYDRA and their sorts. Of SHIELD. Of secret government facilities._

_"Agent Carter will surrender him," Fury had said, using her last name for the first time. Peggy's name. "You'll track them and follow as close to the base as possible without being detected, ready to pick them up and get them the hell out of there once they emerge with my avenger," Fury instructed Nat. It was obvious that he didn't mean Steve. Steve wasn't his avenger anymore. Steve was worthless to him by now. He was worthless to him since Bucky. Since the dream of an ordinary life._

_He'd proceeded to lay out more details of his plan. Didn't bother to ask for their willingness to participate a second time. Fury and Steve both knew it was going to happen. It was going to be their last mission together._

_As Fury kept talking, Natasha turned to Steve. Tired and pale. And had leaned in just a little. Then she stretched out her hand, fist closed and waiting for Steve to react. He turned his palm up, knuckles flat on the cold surface of the meeting room table. A moment later, she had dropped the empty bullet shell into his hand._

_He had frowned,_ \--he frowned now as the memory came to him-- _, not knowing what to do with the small piece, no bigger than a pencil cap. For a split second, Nat's eyes lit up and she grinned at him. Then she turned back to face Fury and his elaborate plans. Not knowing what else to do, Steve protectively closed his fingers around the tiny gift and pulled his hand into his lap. Keeping it there for the rest of the talk._

 

_The line still rang. No one answered. It was just Buck and Sam back at their house. They could have been outside. Working on something. Like they did so many times before. So many nights before. The car, the phone, Buck's arm._

 

_It had been his own fault. For not seeing it coming. His own fault for wandering after Bucky one night. It was summer and the air smelled like hot sand and sweet sticky iced tea. Peaches and lime. There were crickets in the distance. He hesitated leaving Nat alone in the house, but they had been safe here all those weeks. He'd heard them bickering the second he stepped outside. They weren't even in the shed, but sat hidden from Steve's sight at the side of the house. Their backs against the porch and their butts in the dirt._

_"You're a fucking nightmare," Sam had hissed and Steve stood still all at once._

_"You know there are better things you could do with that mouth than talking right?" It was Bucky. Steve's Bucky. Who had been lying right next to him only a couple of hours ago. Sharing a bed with him since they've first left Tony and the shield behind. Asking shamelessly for Sam's mouth._

_"Yeah? I'm surprised you know that since you so rarely reciprocate," Sam snapped, though his voice didn't carry a single harsh note._

_"It's because I know you could never keep yours shut if I started." A kiss. Then the distinct sound of a zipper being pulled._

_"He's going to find out sooner or later." A heavy pause after Sam's words and one of them sighed. Steve couldn't tell who._

_"It would kill him."_

 

_"Steve!"_

_He turned, the receiver almost slipping from his hand. It was Nat coming towards him through the dim tunnel._

_"It's time," she said. The bullet shell dropped._

_He hung up._

 

_Steve didn’t feel any anger. Just pain. All pain in the pit of his stomach. Like a never ending cramp that forced his organs to rearrange. That closed his throat and held his breath. That made him sink into himself. Lower and lower until it drowned him._

 

_There was no time for it now._

_It all went according to Fury's plan until it didn't. He was roughed up and cuffed when he stood beside Sharon at the meeting point._

_She was fidgety, tense and anxious. She knew that if Steve's chances of making it out alive of this rescue mission were slim, hers were doomed._

_But he was a fool to think that it was her life that she was worried about._

_When they came to get her, get him, her breaths were so rash, so hasty, he thought she was going to have a panic attack right there. They told her to stand down and hand Steve over. Told her to get her hands up, keep them over her head._

_But she couldn't. She couldn't release her grip around Steve's cuffs, she couldn't stop the hand going for her gun._

_All of the guards aimed their weapons at her at once, but Steve couldn't be fooled. The shot that followed came from the off road. And the sound of the shell that fell felt all too familiar. When Sharon went down right at his side, he clung to that. That the shooter didn't aim for vital organs. Didn't aim for heavy blood loss either. Sharon had to live and Steve had to trust Nat to ensure just that. He really was on his own now._

_They dragged him away from her body, his boots leaving prints in her blood. They didn't care for the turbulences of the chopper. They forced the first dose of drugs into his veins right there._

It was the last thing of his journey here that Steve remembered, his screams as the hollow needle went in. 

He was still facing Eddie as if a look can be as steadying as a hand. As if Eddie couldn't just heal his abusers transgressions but heartbreak of another kind. As if Eddie could heal what Bucky had kept from him. That all the while Steve had hoped, had dreamed and longed for, Buck had fallen for someone else. 

"There's someone out there waiting for us," he assured them. Himself. Hoping that the delay of Sharon's rescue hadn't kept Nat from following him. Even if, he knew she would never give up on him. "To take us home. All we have to do is make it out into daylight." 

This just wasn't the place nor the time to lose faith in Nat. 

"I'll get us out of here," he tried to convince himself. He had to. 

He had to for Bucky after all. 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Considering the way Steve's life had panned out, the fact that his concept of time was a little off in general wasn't really surprising. It hadn't ever been something to worry about though. Yet in here, with no way to keep track of time while they were stuck in this cell, it was the concept of time that threatened to break him. That edged him closer and closer into losing his mind. He briefly wondered if it was worse now, because of how Venom's understanding of time had mingled with his own while they were bonded. 

It wasn't just the loss of time that fucked with Steve's head. Nor the distortion or the eradication of day and night. Of dates and hours. 

It was the simple weight of time that really messed him up. 

The weight of time that lay impossibly heavy on his shoulders, nagged its way into his muscles. Lay heavy in the pit of his stomach. The weight of his entire life. Growing and gaining mass with the future minutes that passed and the past memories that unfolded. 

He had wished for it all to make sense when he had asked Venom for the memories. And the story that he was told, the story that he remembered did make sense. 

His story. Bucky's story. 

It all made sense. Logically, at least. There was cause and effect. Beginning, middle, end. Order and continuity. No reason to get upset. 

But none of it made sense within the logic of Steve's soul. Where the conclusion of his story, the consistency of his life's story, would only make sense if Bucky was his. If Bucky was meant to be his. Would be his in the end.  

If Bucky was with him. Was with him to the end of the line. 

But Bucky wasn't his. Bucky was Sam's at the foot of the porch. And Steve remembered lying awake that night, wondering where it had all slipped from him. Tried to pinpoint that defining moment when he first chose to look the other way. 

In hindsight though, Steve realized that there hadn't ever been Bucky without Sam. Not since the Winter Soldier. Since then, Steve and Bucky had never been without Sam. 

There had only been those years before the war that had been Steve's and Bucky's alone. Well, Steve and Bucky and whoever Buck was seeing at the time. On and off, or just for that weekend. Just for that late night dance. 

Those years that didn't matter now. Times change. People change. 

Other people. 

Not Steve. 

Steve wanted to hold on to things that mattered a lifetime ago. 

Those rare moments when they had been together. Alone. Undisturbed. Just the two of them. No double dates, no chaperones. No third wheel to fight in the alley. 

Those handful of times before the war when it really was just them. Steve watching Bucky undress and then flicking his eyes down in shame. Flushed cheeks and sweaty hands. Buck's touch on his forehead to check for a fever. 

Buck's touch over his bruised knuckles. On a bony shoulder or a coughing chest. Buck's touch under his chin, tilting it up just a little for a kiss that never came. Just for a smile, or a wink. Or for Buck's forehead to be pressed against his. 

Buck's shaking breaths. 

Steve should have said something then. 

Should have said something more than vague affirmations. More than friendly encouragements. 

It was too late now. 

Times had changed. 

There was just too much time in this godforsaken cell and too little space. They rotated in the ever same constellations. Their backs against the walls, never against the door. Bare feet on the floor and stretched out legs. Aching bones and cracking joints. Pressed into a corner, or shoulder to shoulder for hours. 

Next to Steve, Eddie was sleeping. The way he was positioned didn't look comfortable, but he hadn't moved in a while. 

Eddie's hair was messy and damp, sticking out to all sides. Just as Steve's, the stubble around Eddie's lips and chin grew thicker every day. He slept with one shirt stuffed under his ear, and covered the other with the edge of his shoulder, exposing the underside of his arm. More dark hairs and more tattoos. More traces of Venom. 

On a random urge, Steve grabbed the other shirt that had fallen from Eddie's grip and pulled it close. He let his fingers play with the fabric. He knew he could just put it on. One of them was meant for him anyway. He didn't know what stopped him from doing so. He just straightened it out a little and placed it over his thigh to trace invisible lines. 

He thought about his old place in Washington. The scent of clean laundry. His shower gel. Sharon's perfume lingering in the hallway. 

Everything around them here was muted and stale all the time. And he craved something to bring his senses back to life. 

He let that craving take hold of his imagination. Let it take him back to their safe house. Let it come to life. 

He could almost smell it all. Taste it all. The pears and plums of late summer. A cold beer in the evening heat, residue of sunscreen on his lips. The oil on the metal. Bucky's hair. Bucky's skin. 

But as sudden as it came over him, just as sudden it all started to fade. Dragged back onto pale mint green walls with the weight of the time that grew heavier and heavier still. Even the salty taste of Eddie's sweat had left Steve. 

The symbiote was awake. Steve didn't know how he knew, but he knew. He could tell somehow. Venom didn't move much either, but Steve felt his conscious presence anyway. 

He looked over at Carol to find her already watching him. 

"Fury must really like you," he said. No better deflection coming to mind. "I don't think he likes a lot of people." 

"What makes you think that?" she asked back. Her voice was sharp and clear. As if she had been waiting for an excuse to speak for the longest time. 

"He was ready to risk a lot for you," Steve just said. Thinking of Sharon. Refusing to doubt that she was still alive. "Risk the lives of people. People  who had earned his trust at some point. I guess that means you're really important to him. He wouldn't do that for just anyone." 

She shrugged. Let Steve assume what he wanted to assume. It was fine by him. 

He looked down at Eddie again. Wondered if there was someone in his life too. Someone else apart from his symbiote. Someone to return to. 

"He wants me to bring you to him," Steve said carefully, glancing back at Carol. "Is that where you want to go?" he asked, although they both knew a mission was a mission. And Steve knew it was the one condition for his pardon. His and Bucky's. And Nat's. Sam's and Bucky's. Whatever her answer, it wouldn't matter in the end. 

For a moment, her face gave nothing away. Then there was that hint of a smile. "He's important to me too," she told Steve. Not what he asked. But she just let her head fall back against the wall. It was clear that she wasn't going to elaborate further. 

At least her answer implied that Steve wouldn't have to drag her to Fury if they'd managed to escape. When they would. Though, he doubted that he could just force her anyway. Still he had been ready to fight her for it. But it seemed, she would spare him the struggle. Spare him the effort of persuasion too. 

Feeling just the slightest bit of unease under her fixed gaze, Steve looked back down at Eddie. He was sweating even now in his sleep. Sleep that seemed peaceful enough though. It seemed Venom was happy to keep to himself for the time being. Let Eddie get some rest. 

Steve thought briefly about reaching out. He wanted to wipe that sweat off of Eddie's neck. Off of the cut above his eye. Off of his upper lip. Then he discarded the thought again, remembering that it wasn't just Eddie's body he'd be touching. It was Venom's too. He wondered if the symbiote would even react. Somehow wished for it to gather most of his mass beneath Steve's hand. Steal some of the gentle touches for itself. 

But of course, Venom wouldn't. Steve was still a threat. A snack. Nothing more. 

"You like them, don't you?" Carol asked, forcing Steve's gaze back up. So that was what they were doing. Forcing the other to show their hand. He hadn't expected her to be so direct. Not about this. Not here, not with the circumstances. 

It wasn't her watching him that made him ultimately blush, it was remembering that Venom was aware of every single word spoken. And Steve didn't want to reveal to the symbiote the effects of the bond. However short it had lasted. However unwelcomed it had been at first. 

Steve felt it would give Venom an unfair advantage. To know that Steve didn't think back at their time together in revulsion. Or fear. That part of him missed the feeling of sharing one body. And that part of him left with Venom to seek the shelter of Eddie's instead. Leaving him with even less of himself than before. 

It was a terrifying thought. And yet, Steve found himself trusting Eddie enough to have him. To have part of him and keep it. Keep it safe even. 

Eventually, Steve settled for a shrug. Decided not to elaborate either. He wondered why it would matter to her if he liked them. If it mattered to her at all. After all, Carol and Eddie were the ones with the gentle looks and the fond smiles. It was Eddie who she chose to save without a second of hesitation, and Steve who she would have left to the wolves. Steve's head that she would have left to Venom's teeth. If they both chose Eddie over the other, what difference did it make. 

They sat in silence for a little while. Both letting unfold what hadn't been said. Each with their own secrets. Dwelling with one foot in the past. And then, on a whim, Steve did reach out. 

If he had taken at least two seconds to think about it, he would have gone for a less vulnerable spot. Would have used just a finger maybe, instead of the flat of his hand. Wouldn't have touched Eddie at all. 

But he hadn't thought about it. He had reached out for the bared side of Eddie's ribcage, where his breaths moved the skin in soft waves. Where Steve could imagine the echoes of his heart beat. Could feel the warmth of his body right there under his palm. 

Venom did react. He almost shrieked away from the touch, recoiled into different parts of Eddie, but it was only Steve who flinched. Though the movement appeared sudden, the symbiote hadn't panicked as much as Steve had feared. Hadn't bothered to wake its host. To alert Eddie of Steve's hand. Eddie, who breathed into the touch instead, leaned into it even for the slightest second. Possibly, a trick of the light. Wishful thinking maybe. 

Venom let it happen quietly. Keeping watch from the hidden places of Eddie's body into which the symbiote had retreated. Let Steve stroke down the length of Eddie's torso slowly, undisturbed until he reached the waistband of the sweats. Let Steve work his hand back up again until he could feel once more the steady beats of Eddie's heart. Let it rest there without objection. 

There had been too many bodies that Steve had touched only in battles and fist fights. Not too many he had been allowed to touch with care. Fewer even he had been allowed to touch with love. They were all different. Eddie was different from Peggy. From Carol. From Bucky. 

Steve knew he was being watched. That both Venom and Carol watched over Eddie. That they followed Steve's every move with full attention. The tension had filled the room, seeping into Steve's muscles, his fingers trembling faintly. He hadn't asked for Eddie's permission. 

He was walking a thin line. 

And he knew it all too well. He knew from the nights he had spent awake next to a sleeping Bucky. Buck with his back turned just like Eddie. He knew about looks that weren't invited. That weren't denied though either. It was the only experience of love he had. Of infatuation that he had. Silence. Silence and walking that thin line. 

He was vaguely aware that it was wrong. That it wasn't how intimacy was created. How it developed. That it wasn't how people grew comfortable around each other. Confident with each other. But there was a discrepancy between his knowledge and his experience that made it quite impossible for him to believe there was another way. 

He could have had it differently. He knew Sharon tried to do it differently. Do it better. Do it right. Her open invitations and open questions. The way she said yes when she meant yes, and no when she meant no. And the way she had moved things forward when she had felt the attraction. The way she had slowed things down when she had felt nervous around him. 

He knew all about right or wrong when it came down to it. He knew about all the spots on Bucky's body that he wasn't allowed to touch. That no one was allowed to touch. Not since Hydra and Zola. And Pierce. Not once had he put a finger there. Not once had he let himself stare at those spots. Not once even imagine what the skin would feel like there. 

And over the years he had learned all the places on Natasha's body that weren't to be touched either. And he came to learn just how to hug her without even grazing over any of them. 

He had learned about what the war had done to Sam. Had learned about his wounds and scars. Had worried about them during every fight when they had been side by side in their battles. Had worried about them when, on one or two occasions, bickering with Bucky had turned into a full-blown argument. 

Knowing that Buck didn't know about those old wounds. Thinking that Buck couldn't know about them yet. Knowing that Bucky's body was made for war, and fearing the harm it could do. With the way it was made for hard touches. For wetwork only. 

Not the kind of wet work he had learned about later. The kisses that night on the porch. Bucky's soft moans that he held back in his chest. His body shuddering from Sam's mouth. 

That night Steve had learned that some of the spots that were off limits to him weren't off limits to Sam. That he could put his fingers on them, his lips, his tongue, his teeth. 

That night he had learned about a different kind of intimacy. Not the silent one. But the one that came from play fights and toothless insults. From exasperation, mutual irritation, that drizzled into restless, incomprehensible longing. 

Bucky complaining about Sam all night. And later, during the day, Sam complaining about Bucky. Back and forth, the arguments. The never-ending banter. Annoyance turning into amusement. And amusement into flirtation. Flirtation concluding in passion. 

And Steve oblivious to it all. Maybe that's when he had started to look away. When he chose not to see what was coming. 

He had a feeling that it was the same kind of intimacy that Venom and Eddie could relate to. 

Steve didn't know anything about Eddie's body. Didn't know the degree to which it was shared. If it even mattered that Venom seemed to have moved out of the way or if he could still feel the touch anyway. After all, it was Venom's body, too, that Steve was touching so blatantly. 

At first, he thought it was just part of one of Eddie's tattoos that blurred into his peripheral vision. But the ink seemed to moved the longer he kept his hand on Eddie. Seemed to move carefully closer. It was one of the symbiote's tendrils, cautiously making its way towards Steve's hand. The purpose of its travel unknown. 

Steve didn't give in to the instinct to retreat, break apart and move away. There was nothing hostile in his touch and he didn't want his fear of Venom to spoil that innocence. Nevertheless, he was prepared to be shrugged off any second now. Or be told off by Carol even. He feared her rejection as much as Eddie's. As much as Venom's. 

Determined to let things play out, he let Venom approach him on its own terms. With his eyes fixated on the little black trail, Steve held his breath. Waiting patiently, although he had no idea what he was waiting for. 

Venom slithered closer and closer under Eddie's skin, hesitantly at times, then surging forward just an inch. Steve tried to relax his fingers. Tried to keep his own pulse calm just in case Venom could feel the vibration through the contact. And why wouldn't he be able to do that. 

When that single tendril finally reached the skin beneath Steve's palm, against all that anticipation and suspense, nothing happened. Not to Steve. Nothing changed in his touch. Nothing changed in the way Eddie's skin felt against his own. Nothing changed in the way Eddie quietly slept through it all. Undisturbed still. 

But it felt like a victory to Steve. And when he let out that breath he'd been holding, he couldn't hold back that smile either. He was beginning to learn about Eddie's body too, about Eddie's and Venom's, and Steve wasn't scared to admit that he was attentively aware of the sacred quality that this knowledge held. 

It was enough to comfort him through the silence of what Steve considered their nights. When conversations ran low and one of them regularly gave into exhaustion. Eddie more often than Steve, and Steve more often than Carol. 

After the initial hesitation, Steve's touch didn't seem to make any difference to Venom soon after. The symbiote spread back out through all of Eddie's body, moved beneath Steve's hand with the same ease he moved through untouched skin. 

And when Steve looked back up, after getting caught up in the mesmerizing patterns of Venom's traces, he found Carol blinking at him with heavy, tired lids. All of the tension between them evaporating at once. 

And before he knew it, unable to estimate how long it had been, how much more time had passed, she was there at his side once more.  Shoulder to shoulder at first, then finding sleep with her head on Eddie's shirt that was still draped over Steve's thigh. Steve's arm over her own, blanketing the naked skin. 

During the day, or whatever time it actually was, when they were all awake and alert, they were still committed to their plan. They were committed, but they weren't stupid. They couldn't just rip a guard's earpiece out and slip it into a back pocket. For one, there were no back pockets. There were no pockets at all. And two, they couldn't risk being found out. They couldn't risk exposing what they conspired to do. 

But considering their situation, considering how little they had to work with, Steve couldn't find a better fitting word than ' _proud_ ' every time he was allowed to witness their efforts. 

There was the time Eddie pretended he was in even more excruciating pain from those high pitched frequencies. When he pretended he couldn't hear a single of the guard's orders through the haze of the painful buzz. Pretending he couldn't make out a single word until the guy deliberately slipped the tiny device from his ear to check how bad the noise was without the neutralizer. 

While it didn't give them a huge advantage yet, it at least gave them an idea how deep the pieces were fitted and how difficult, or rather how easy, they could be removed. 

There was the time, Carol had fought one of the guards so vigorously that she actually managed to make him lose the piece without realizing it right away. She had even been smart enough to throw her body over it once it hit the floor, so he wouldn't be reminded of it by its sight. It could have been their first major break through if they hadn't found it not working later, realizing the little piece of technology must have broken during the fight. 

They've learned that day though that it took the guards roughly forty minutes to come back for it. Yes, they've counted the seconds. Minutes. As best as they could. They had slid the small plastic piece into a far corner by the door then, pretending to never have known of its existence in their cell in the first place. 

"Maybe the guards are used to the noise by now," Eddie said, shrugged. "I know Venom will never get used to it. I know I won't. But maybe if you've been working here for years-," he never finished that sentence, just waited for someone else to pick his thought back up. 

"Maybe it wasn't clear where he'd lost it," Carol argued instead. "And it took him forty minutes to retrace all his steps." 

"Maybe it's more common to lose them and they just have an infinite amount of new ones," Steve offered. 

"That's just reckless," Carol said. "What if Eddie would just find a couple in the hallway?" 

Her question was rhetorical, but it made Steve remember earring-guy and how he never bothered picking up anything along their way. 

It was too soon when he had to face him again, two or three days later with Steve back in that familiar laboratory. 

The air was cold and the light was bright, and Steve was reduced to a shaking mess the second he felt the straps around his wrists and ankles. 

Breathing was impossible, but his body still forced chunks of air through an impossibly tight windpipe. He choked on his own breaths, coughed into the gag with hurting lungs. 

This time, as if fear had for once heightened his senses, the room felt impossibly empty. He couldn't hear another person breathe, let alone speak. He couldn't make out any more footsteps once the ones from the guards who brought him here had faded. 

But then, on that small chance that it wasn't just coincidence, that he had truly felt some remorse for what had happened the last time, earring-guy appeared at his side, was once again the one tasked to force an orgasm on Steve. 

It had been nothing more than a single glimpse of earring-guy in his sight that had made Steve well up in solace. That had made him bite onto the gag to suppress any pitiful sound of primal relief. That tiny bit of appreciation. That single speck of safety in between life-threatening violence. It was enough to render Steve without defiance. The opposite was true instead. Part of him wanted to prove himself worthy of mercy. 

Just like the first time, he asked for Steve's compliance in exchange for his own hand. And suddenly there was an element of opportunity there once more. Of course there was. In earring-guy's misplaced trust. In Steve's own. It was always there. It was there with the plan sticking somewhere to the back of Steve's head. 

And yet, gratefulness had paralyzed Steve in the moment of truth. Here, where he had felt the pain and the humiliation of another one's touch. When all at once it came back to him. The gloves and the ice-cold lube. The cruel words. The fear, the sheer terror, of unpredictability. That guard's frustration and anger. His hatred of Steve that had swelled with any passing minute. 

It took Steve a lot longer than a quick moment to calm down, but earring-guy didn't comment on it. He waited it out first. Then he checked on Steve's toes and his arms like he had always done after. 

There was mercy maybe, but there wasn't pity. There was neither stupidity nor sympathy. So just like that first time, earring-guy uncuffed only Steve's left hand. Placed tissues and lube next to him on the table and disappeared from his eyesight without another word. The gag remained in place this time. 

It took Steve another couple of self soothing moments though, before he could even properly move his hand with intent. And even then he was still trembling. Needed to focus on his breaths first before he could even recall that his body had other functions aside from fight or flight. Or that instinct to play dead weight. Not to speak even of that instinct to submit and comply to sustain life at all cost. 

Neither of those were particularly stimulating for Steve's libido. Nothing here was. It was almost incomprehensible how he had managed to even reach an orgasm twice. 

Just a physical reaction, he reminded himself. Incomprehensible but not impossible. Not even unlikely. 

There was little left to think of. Sure, there was always Bucky. But the thoughts had been reduced to that squirming sick feeling that strangled his heart first and later his stomach. It was that twisted feeling that Sam had maliciously stolen something from him, and the very clear yet detached knowledge that it wasn't true. It was the same twisted feeling that Bucky had betrayed him, contradicting the knowledge that what they had, what they've been, all they've ever been, was nothing more than an almost. A possibility. An idea. The fantasy of the big finale. Never once had it occurred to him that a whole life would fit in that space between the idea and the happy end. Bucky wanted to live that life. And Steve wanted him to live that life too. 

Just, if it was up to Steve, not with Sam. 

But with him instead, of course. 

Of course, these thoughts did not let go of him. Not even here. Instead, they added to the humiliation. That nagging feeling that he had no life between the idea and the finale. That he was existing merely to be a functioning body, void of all personal desires and selfish ambition. 

And maybe some sick part of him thought it'd be better to just let the guards take care of things. Use him so that he didn't have to be complicit in his own abuse. So that he didn't have to contribute to the stimulation. He just wanted to let his body be. Let it be reduced to its chemical reaction and reflexes. 

He didn't want to touch himself. He didn't want to be his own perpetrator and his own victim. If he wasn't wanted anywhere then he wanted to surrender his body here. 

Discomfort spread over his own skin, his own touch unwelcomed. His wrist didn't just feel stiff, it started to hurt after only a few strokes. 

But this was his mission. This was not just about getting himself out alive. To free himself. He needed to complete the mission for Nat. For Sam and Buck. It was about their freedom too. 

He closed his eyes, gave it another try. Everything about him felt weaker than before. Weaker than after the drugs. The joints of his fingers felt sore and his hand ached with the effort to maintain a tight enough grip. Even his dick felt smaller. And with every stroke it just seemed to curl in on itself even more, refused to swell even the slightest bit. 

The lube felt different too, seemed to dry off quicker or maybe more time passed than Steve was aware of. The longer he rubbed the skin, the softer he got. Feeling sore and empty. There was pressure, though, in his testicles. The hormones, he reminded himself. Maybe his body was finally producing what they asked of it. But it didn't translate into arousal, into urgency. It only translated into muted pain that echoed deep into the core of his lower stomach, giving him the sensation of muscle soreness. 

He couldn't see his cock, had his hand around it buried in his sweatpants just like the last time. He could only imagine the reddened skin around the head, the chafed spots around the base where his wrist dragged over the sensitive area relentlessly. 

He really had become his own torturer. He winced, bit his cheek and drew his brows together tightly in frustration. 

He startled and flinched away in shock when someone touched his arm, and held onto it to stop his wrist from moving further. It was earring-guy whose return was probably prompted by impatience. 

His touch was tender though, calm and he had this unbearable expression of patronizing understanding. 

"They worried this might happen," he said, but Steve just shook his head on principle. He didn't want them to know better than himself, know better what happened to his own body. It was just another painful reminder that they simply manipulated it how they saw fit. 

"Guess, this is going to be a team effort then," earring-guy said, but Steve just kept on shaking his head. He didn't want to know. To agree. Didn't want it to be true. "Sorry about that," earring-guy added, but although he looked apologetic, he reached for the gloves without a second of hesitation. Steve wondered when earring-guy had surrendered himself to his own mission. 

He didn't bother with any explanation, just reached past Steve's own hand into the sweats, and took hold of Steve's balls with his wide palm and long fingers. Then he started gently massaging the heavy sack, giving Steve's aching junk some relief. Relief Steve hadn't known he needed before. But the pain in his stomach and between his hip bones receded and he felt his body loosen a little to the touch. 

He stared at earring-guy who refused to meet his eye. Who just kept his one hand busy with Steve's testicles, and then, shortly after, removed the other hand from Steve's arm, urging him to build a rhythm again. Steve complied, but he was on autopilot. His focus was elsewhere. 

His focus was with the noise of the room that he, actually, in contrast to Eddie and Venom, had gotten used to just a little bit. His focus was with how muffled and dead the sound reached his bad ear. How hollow it felt, no trace even of the white noises his body usually produced even in silence. Even at night, right before sleep. And his focus was with earring-guy's earpiece, with that loose edge where it just didn't fit evenly. His focus was with that thin ring right beneath it, the silver curl coiling around his lobe. 

And suddenly what they did with Steve's body didn't matter anymore. What he did with Steve's body didn't matter anymore. What Steve was complicit in didn't matter anymore. 

What mattered was Steve's hand on Eddie's body all those hours ago. Or had it been days already? What mattered was that little black tendril testing the waters of Steve's touch, was Venom's choice to let it happen. Was Venom reassessing Steve's level of threat. 

What mattered was that earring-guy made no motion to collect what Steve was forced to coax out of his body. That no one rushed in to take a sample of his semen. They would get another shot at this. 

When he came this time, spilled it all into his own hand, it didn't feel quite as empty as before. Not quite as humiliating. It was a spurt of triumph. The realization that he could reproduce this moment. 

Of helplessness. And distress. 

That he could reproduce another moment, strapped in this familiar position, another moment of proximity with this one guard. 

The realization that one uncuffed hand would be enough. Enough in lethal proximity. Enough to tear out the earring and snatch the neutralizer at once. 

And the realization that one earpiece may just be enough.

They would get another shot at this, if Eddie was willing to hand Venom over once more. If Venom was willing to be Steve's weapon at just the right time. 

One might just be enough with Steve's battered ear, with what was most likely a ruptured eardrum. One would be enough with the symbiote lurking under his skin. Pooling somewhere out of sight until it was time.

Until it was time for Venom to take over. 

 


	9. Chapter 9

Steve was staring. 

The rotor of the helicopter forced the blades through the air relentlessly. The vibrations echoed in every part of Steve's body, but the noise felt a million miles away. He couldn't stop staring. 

Carol sat opposite of him, motionless with the seat belt strapped over her shoulders and chest. Her legs were spread just a foot wide, and Steve's empty stare was glued to the insides of her thighs. 

There was nothing to see. 

Nothing but the familiar gray of the sweats. The same as his own. They've all been wearing them for too long by now. 

The dried up smears of blood were only beneath it. Maybe the fabric had already rubbed them off. But Steve still stared at the spot. He could still hear her screams in the back of his head. 

They were safe now, but Steve's mind hadn't caught up with it yet. It still played the horror of their past twenty-four hours on repeat. 

There was nothing they could have changed, nothing they could have done differently. 

They thought they'd have time. It was their biggest mistake. It was Steve's biggest mistake. 

But it wouldn't have changed a thing. 

Next to him Buck squeezed his hand. For comfort. And encouragement. Even distraction. He was trying to make Steve look away, but he couldn't. Steve wanted to wipe off what was left of the blood. If there was any left. He wanted to know for sure. Needed to know for sure. 

It was rude. Steve knew it was rude. More than rude. There was no name for his staring. It was creepy, but they had passed creepy about twenty minutes ago. Now it was just sad. 

He swallowed, throat tight and dry, and glanced up at Carol's face. She was staring right back into his eyes. 

They've done the right thing. 

They've made the right decision. 

They couldn't have changed a thing. 

He let his gaze drop between her legs again. It made Bucky squirm in his seat uncomfortably. 

Nobody cared though. Nobody but Bucky. 

In the seat next to Carol's, Eddie stared out the window, careful not to touch her body. The skin on his chest was covered in what looked like a tight black sweater, but Steve knew better. He wished it was his body instead that Venom would be wrapped around protectively. Wished he was sinking into Venom whole. 

Behind them in the front, Nat and Sam were busy steering the helicopter through the strong winds. Of course, Sam and Bucky hadn't stayed in the safe house. Of course they had been on their way to keep Steve from his suicide mission while he had tried calling. Of course, they were here now, with Nat, busy bringing them back home. 

Busy getting them away from it all. Away from it all and straight to Fury. 

Nobody cared that Steve could still smell the blood. 

They did the right thing. 

… 

 

"You realize that he's not a thing you just swap back and forth, right?" Eddie had asked. He had been getting angry with every passing minute. "Venom's a living organism. And this entire back and forth isn't exactly easy on him. Not ever," he stressed. "Especially not here, where he's in constant pain." Almost abruptly, Eddie paused then, knowing he shouldn't go on, but that knowledge wasn't enough to stop him. "And especially when it's you." Maybe, in his anger, he just wanted to hurt Steve. 

_Especially when it was Steve._

The words sank like rocks in shallow water. Steve had stopped dead in his tracks, momentarily taken aback by the statement. He let his shoulders fall against the wall, but he refused to sink down to the floor. He had been on his feet since the second the guards had released him back with the others. Had walked quiet circles into the ground of the cell, rethinking every possible scenario. He was convinced that this was their best shot. And then he had walked off his agitation as he explained to the other in hushed, rushing words how he would get them out of here. How Venom would. 

But his running thoughts weren't the only thing that kept him moving. Earring-guy's aided relief had only lasted for a short while. The pressure in his testicles was back, accompanied by the same cloggy ache in his lower abdomen. Being upright seemed to ease the pain a little, but it had started to spread into his lower back too. 

"You said it yourself," Steve almost cried out. He was ready to beg Eddie to hear him out. "The whole thing about my ear sparing me pain. He said it yourself. Venom. It's going to work. I know it will." 

Eddie shook his head, he put a hand on the back of his neck to massage a tense muscle. He even made a good show of it as if Steve was just pushing him now physically with his ideas. 

"You can't seriously think that we would just agree to this, right? That I would?" Eddie looked at him with raised eyebrows. He was annoyed. And Steve hated to be the reason for his annoyance. "Come up with a better plan." 

Helplessly, Steve looked over to Carol. For all the times she had stared right back at him, she strategically avoided his eyes now. There was, despite everything, a delicate balance of power here, divided between the three of them. And a delicate balance of value, of usefulness to their capturers. To upset that balance could easily mean death to one or all of them. Premature death. Sooner or later they'd all be killed and disposed of in here. That much Steve was sure of. 

"You can't seriously believe we'd have a better chance at anything than this?" Steve asked, turning back to face Eddie. "This might be our only chance and you refuse to acknowledge that." He pressed the heel of his palm into his lower belly as he pushed himself away from the wall to walk another round. "I won't hurt him and you know it." 

"You still don't get it," Eddie said, but this time he didn't sound angry. Or annoyed. He just sounded fed up with everything. Fed up with Steve. 

"I get that you love him," Steve just said. He ignored the little disapproving scoff coming from Carol's direction, moved passed Eddie without another glance and tried leaning against the wall again.  "I get that you want to protect him. That you don't want him used as a weapon. Especially by me. But this is a military base and everyone on here is a weapon. So we might as well get into that headspace ourselves." He wasn't proud about his choice of words. But he was a soldier after all. Carol said she was too. She, at least, would understand the sentiment. "I get that we were somewhat forced to rely on each other here," he went on, "and that, no matter how stupid it sounds, that this made it both, more easy and more difficult, for us to trust each other." 

He inhaled deeply, like any good patient, tried to breathe right into where it hurt. With a hand on his stomach, he felt not only his lungs expand but his entire upper body. And with one long exhale, he tried to let go and relax all muscles, tried to rid himself of some of the tension that was undoubtedly adding to the pain. 

"But if Venom dies, then he dies with me," Steve said while he slumped down to the floor despite his better efforts. He only realized now how much the muscles of his legs were hurting too, strained with his refusal to give them rest. "He won't die because of me. Maybe I have the means to control the symbiote. And to hurt it. To kill it even. But it's the same power Venom has over you. And he chooses not to. And neither will I." 

He let his hand roam over his stomach, moving in slow circles. He was mostly stress-rambling at this point anyway. Just letting it all out at once. Giving voice to all thoughts. 

"And if he came back differently the first time, then because I didn't want any part of what I saw you become with him for myself," Steve admitted. "And part of me was rejecting that, yes. Suppressing that part of Venom even. I'm not even denying it. And I'm sorry about that. But a lot has happened to me since, and I can only beg you to believe me when I say that this part of me is gone. I want Venom. I want him in all his terrifying glory. And I don't want to control any of that. The opposite is true. I don't care what he does with any of these guards outside." 

He tried his best to hide his hand behind his knees when he moved it lower, down to his balls to hold onto himself. He didn't want to be _that_ guy, but by now he couldn't even stop his distressed body from pulling on every muscle of his face with the aching discomfort between his legs, tearing it into ugly grimaces. He wondered about the effects the hormones had on Carol, but either she excelled at controlling her ever expression, every movement of her body, or the effects were less painful than what Steve was going through. The skin around his most intimate area felt tender and sore, but it was nothing compared to the literal gut-wrenching that went on inside his body. 

"I know he wouldn't hurt you," he said, then let go of himself again. Busied his hand anywhere else on his body instead. His hair, his beard, his ear. But he started to feel sick too. Tight in his throat and heavy in his stomach. "I know he can't hurt Carol. That's all that matters to me. I want him to do with these people whatever he wants. And if he wants to eat me after, fine, so be it. As long as you promise me you'll show up at Fury's and tell him that I didn't fail his mission. That I returned you to him," he said desperately and then dared to look over at Carol again. "That's all I need. To know that Fury knows." 

He didn't want to say why. He didn't want to talk about what he had to ultimately gain from finishing the mission. It was nobody's business but his own. 

Carol was still watching him as if there were things left to say, left to explain, but Steve just let his body drop gently onto his side and curled up with one hand in between his legs. 

Eddie chose to stay quiet too, so Steve turned his back towards them, faced the wall to allow himself a couple of silent tears. 

Of course, there was no way he would have found sleep. In fact, at some point he doubted he would even make it through the night. His body felt too hot and his hair was wet from sweat. He was convinced he was coming down with a fever. With a fever or something far worse. 

The silence between them wasn't just tense, it was sharp like broken glass. For all their hope and all the fight they put up, they were running out of ideas. Out of strength and hope. Things were bound to escalate sooner or later, and Steve would have preferred them to be the ones to set it off. 

He was drowning deep in his own misery, his own agony, when the guards came to clean up. Something must have been different, but Steve couldn't put a finger on it. It hadn't been more guards than usual. They hadn't talked more or less. Had been neither more gentle nor more brutal than those other times. And yet, it was as clear as the violence around them that they were coming to collect. That it was time for the slaughter. And that was the only thing Steve had felt in that moment. 

The panic, for better or worse, numbed his pain and mobilized his aching body. He scrambled back onto his legs as fast as he could, but even before he stood on both feet, there was nothing but chaos all around him. 

There were fists and sticks and weapons being swung like baseball bats. Bodies crashing into one another. There was Carol, in the midst of it all, with glowing veins from shoulders to knuckles and all across her back. The sight made Steve dizzy and raised the temperature of his breaths. Raised the temperature in the cell. It was too hot and he could barely breathe. 

Coughing and heaving, Steve took a hard blow to the chest and went crumbling down again. It was then that someone grabbed him ruthlessly and tight by the nape of his neck, and even dragged him a couple of feet across the floor with strong harsh fingers that refused to let go. Naked, fiery skin against his own. 

The shock of the violent pull trickled down his back, razor-edged and ice cold, twisting around his spine. He cried out, cutting through the deafening nausea, but he couldn't even hear himself over the shouting guards and the noise of the ongoing fights. 

He tried to writhe himself free from the head-splitting, skin-breaking grip around his neck, thrashed and struggled with all muscles and limbs against the pull of the body that trailed him along mercilessly. 

Right when he thought he'd break his own neck or pass out from the attempts to free himself, he was let go of, dropped and discarded as if he was already dead. Steve's hands snapped up to the back of his neck automatically, sheltering himself from further attacks. 

The guards were still all around him, heavy stomping boots just as deadly as their weapons with Steve cowering on the floor. Every other second, he caught a glimpse of Carol's bare feet trying to kick a guy, and could only spot Eddie as he was already dragged halfway into the hallway, a hopeless hand reaching for Steve. 

They brought down Carol soon enough with what painfully reminded Steve of the taser rods he recognized from Hydra's arsenal. From Rumlow and his STRIKE team. They were laughing when they carried her out of the cell; nothing like a good fight to bond with the fellow troops. 

Some guard held Steve down with a foot on his shoulder, threatening to step on with all their weight. They made more cruel comments about the state he was him when they pushed him along after the others, laughing and joking about his difficulties to walk. Pain ringing still in his spine and flaring back up between his legs. 

Steve wiped the tears off harshly as he moved, angry about being weak and vulnerable. Angry about the humiliation taking hold of him. Angry about how little dignity he could retain, how difficult it was for him to keep his head up. 

They shoved him through a couple of locked doors, pushed and hit him at every turn. 

Of course, this time, it was all clinical professionalism. No messy handjobs that had never been handjobs in the first place but sexual assaults. Medical assaults. Steve didn't even know how to classify what they had done to him. It was all the same in the end. Hurting and humiliating. 

He tried to flee into himself, into the bright light above him, as soon as he heard the snap of the latex gloves. As soon as he heard that one doctor tell all those guards to get out of the way. Steve guessed this was, at last, what this person went to medical school for. 

But it was impossible to retreat. Impossible to seek shelter in comforting thoughts. 

Through the noise of those agonizing sound frequencies, he could, still with one ear, make out something far more distressing. 

Whatever procedure was forced on his body, Steve wasn't there to witness it. Steve was with Carol, whose screams reached him from a different laboratory. A different examination room. Nearby or far away, he couldn't tell. They were retrieving the eggs. 

Everything around him faded into a black out, only Carol remained. Her battle and her battle cries that made up all the darkness around him. 

His body registered the intrusion. The lube and the pressure on his prostate. His body registered the sleeve around his penis, tender and soft, and still so sore. His body registered the squeezing grip around his testicles, the aching relief that numbed more of his pain. 

But his mind was elsewhere. Steve's mind was drowning in apologies. In regrets. His mind remained witness to Carol's torture. The only thing he had left to give her. 

"If the symbiote's residue doesn't have the desired effect, all this will have been in vain." The voice cut forcefully through Steve's haze. He recognized it from the first time he found himself in this exact room. It was the same voice that had praised him back then for his leadership. The same voice that had promised to take care of the symbiote and its issues with Steve's DNA. The same person that had touched his shoulder back then, causing Steve's body to tense now in fear that they would do it again. 

"I have no doubt about the success of this program," the other one said, still working between Steve's legs. "We'll deliver the alien markers into the eggs through in vitro fertilization. Using the sperm cells as carriers will protect the alien's quasi-genetic information from the photon energy. We've done countless test runs using photon radiation on the other subject's sperm cells. The alien markers remained intact, only the sperm's viability was compromised. But the genetic enhancement in this one will eradicate that side effect." 

"And this will guarantee the symbiotes' safety?" It was the first voice again, much closer now, and Steve felt another pair of eyes on him. There was nothing he could do though, to protect his naked body from the violating gaze. Steve felt worse now, realizing that Eddie had been assaulted in the same manner as him all along. And had never said a single word about it. 

"The symbiotes will be safe then. They will bond with the embryos without further obstacles," the doctor confirmed. "Have the alien seeds already been extracted?" 

"Just a second ago." The voice was even closer now and, despite all the restraints, Steve's entire body jerked to the side when the hand on his shoulder was back. It must have dislocated some cruel instrument that had been inserted into his body, because he was left with some stinging pain deep within his core and more discomfort than before. 

However, Steve was convinced now that the second person wasn't another doctor, but an experienced handler instead. Someone like Coulson. Someone like Pierce. The thought made Steve shiver. The thought of Venom's seeds being forcibly extracted from the symbiote made Steve shiver. The thought of Eddie outliving his purpose made Steve shiver. The thought of all of them outliving their purpose. 

"Fewer than we've expected," the voice added. The hand on Steve's shoulder remained despite his physical protest. 

"How many?" the doctor asked, still concentrated on milking Steve dry. They didn't even seem to have noticed that Steve had moved. They didn't care about his objections. 

"Eight," the handler said. 

"Enough for a first batch," the doctor remarked, making Steve sick to his stomach. 

"I was hoping for ten." There was a pause while the handler moved their hand up and down Steve's arm, admiring the muscles beneath the skin. "He looks a little rough," they commented. 

"The fertilizer does that," came the answer from the other side of Steve's body, but the doctor didn't even bother to look up. Didn't even bother to check on Steve's condition. 

 **It's not the fertilizer that does that, Steve, it's us.** Venom's smug voice ran through Steve's consciousness like thick paralyzing glue, sticking to every one of Steve's own thoughts all at once. 

Out of shock and with little calculated control over his own body, Steve jerked again, causing himself more pain and the handler next to him to sigh in pity. 

He wanted to ask Venom _how?_ , but he couldn't take any chance to accidentally reveal to anyone else in the room that he wasn't alone. 

Venom knew, of course, about the question lingering in Steve's mind. 

 **It was us who grabbed you in the cell,** Venom told him quietly. **Eddie wanted me to go with you, Steve.**

At that, Steve frowned, but he was lucky enough that nobody else in the room picked up on it. Or if they did, they probably just thought he was hurting and didn't bother to acknowledge it. 

 **We left the offsprings with Eddie,** Venom informed Steve. **An easy distraction. But now we have to find Eddie. And save him.**

Steve was tempted to nod, but he stopped himself. There was nothing he could do though, not right now to fulfill his part of the bargain. Earring-guy wasn't around. Even if he was, he wasn't close enough for Steve to do anything about it. He was still cuffed and restrained, and helplessly subjected to whatever was done to him right now. 

It felt like over an hour, but Steve doubted it could have been that long. He wasn't prepared at all for how they would leave him. He had thought initiating the procedure would be the worst part. The touches and the insertions. The objectification,  dehumanization. 

But then the sleeve was pulled from his cock, the doctor even went as far as to give his slit a tight squeeze, not wasting a single drop that may have hid on the inside of his body. His sack hung wrung out and abandoned between his legs, between his knees that were forcibly bent still. And then the doctor pulled whatever it was out from between his cheeks, where Steve felt slack, and wet, and sore. Unable to reverse the intrusion. He was pretty sure, they hadn't just used lube, but something that numbed the entire area, causing the muscle to barely react to the retraction. The shame that came with feeling opened and used was unbearable. 

"This'll be enough for an entire generation," the doctor proclaimed and showed the long vial filled with Steve's semen to the handler, who nodded with pride as he took it. 

"And thanks to the alien symbiote, the only generation we'll need." Now the hand was gone from Steve's shoulder, clapping the doctor's instead. 

"The last one," they agreed and then moved back over to Steve's side, wrapping a tight strap around his arm. There was rustling when he unpacked the cannula and prodded Steve's arm for a good vein. No one bothered to disinfect the skin, they just forced the needle in slowly, closing the IV-access after the first drops of blood had passed through. 

They were going to put him down. 

Steve knew they were going to put him down, although they left him there then. Not just the two with seemingly all the authority in this place, but the guards as well. Left him, with his knees still bent and his feet held up. Hollow needle sticking out his arm. Strapped and bound, and unable to move. Naked and bare, and violated. 

Carol's screams had died out too. Nothing remained aside from the high-pitched buzz, and Steve felt his entire body submit to hopelessness. There was a good chance that this was supposed to be the end if his journey. That with nothing else to give, he was only waiting for his execution now. It sure felt like it. Even Venom remained quiet, either suffering with Steve through their bond or suffering on his own. All out of words and will. 

Out of words and will was what they were, but they weren't out of luck yet. 

Of course not. Of course, it was earring-guy showing up for the last clean-up. The last act of kindness. And Steve wanted to ask for his name then. Wanted to ask, although he knew he'd have to live with it. Live with what Venom would do. But he didn't. 

There was a routine there that made Steve sick. Earring-guy gave him another round of drugs first, connected a bag of clear fluid to the abused vein, while Steve prayed that Venom would be unaffected once they'd managed to get their hands on the neutralizer. 

Despite his best efforts to mentally prepare himself for whatever they infused his system with, Steve's started to feel dizzy and tired within seconds. 

He didn't know how much time he had left. 

Earring-guy started loosening the restraints right away, starting with Steve's legs. By all appearances, he was confident that Steve was no threat to him anymore. 

Although he had cleaned Steve's body in the past, earring-guy didn't bother then. Didn't wipe off any of the blood of his arm, any of the lube off his thighs. When he was stood next to Steve's arm, to undo the first cuff, Steve could barely see anymore. It had all started to blur again. 

 **Do it now, Steve,** Venom urged him on from deep inside the back of his head. **Do it now or you'll be dead.**

For a split second, Steve wondered why the symbiote had phrased it like that. Wondered what chance Venom really stood with a dead host at first. Then no host at all. Maybe there was a scenario somewhere in which Venom could overpower one of the guards that would take care of Steve's body. Overpower earring-guy even. Bond with him. But even then, it would have been too late for Eddie anyway. 

Steve tried to focus on the earring, tried some sort of rough calculation, a vague guess of the hand-eye-coordination he was still capable of. He had one shot, and one shot only. 

One shot to do two things. Three even. Getting a hold of the earpiece wasn't enough, the plan would only work if he'd manage to put it into his ear instead. 

He took a deep breath first, flexed his fingers and shook his head awake. _Do it now or you'll be dead._

His hand surged forward the second the clasp fell opened, with no second to spare, no second to hesitate. He clawed at the side of earring-guy's head with all the strength he had left, so hard, with so much rage-flooded determination, that it wouldn't have surprised Steve to find his hand returning with the entire shell of that guy's ear. 

He felt the edge of the earpiece under the tip of his index finger, and the smooth delicate metal beneath the others. Then he curled them towards his palm with vicious precision and pulled with what was left of his superhuman strength. 

Earring-guy screamed as his lobe was torn apart, flesh splitting and blood gushing down his neck. Steve didn't know how he managed, how he managed while his body shut down, while the toxin paralyzed all his vital body functions, but he did. Muscle memory, maybe, from all his missions. From the need to establish communication, the need to have Nat's voice right inside his ears. Nat's and Sam's. 

He was lucky it fit tightly, shutting down any way left for the noise to reach him. Reach Venom. 

And then suddenly, he found himself in blissful silence. Silence that only grew with every layer that Venom added to his body. Their body. Eddie was right, it was just like a reflex, the transformation happening without any further thought. 

There was nothing left for Steve to do but hand himself over. He tried to take another, a last breath, but there was no need for oxygen anymore. 

He was aware of his body moving within the alien form, was aware that he was being moved with no intention to counter Venom's will. As his body, Steve's mind was just floating among Venom's choices, with no intention to interfere. He was a passenger only, and the peace that came with it, tranquilized his body more than the drug that was supposed to kill him. To subdue him. To silence him for good. 

It all went on in a haze, it was Steve's instinct now, too, to find Eddie first, but Venom wasn't stupid. The symbiote let his senses guide him to the origin of those tormenting noises instead, sniffed it out much like a bloodhound. Before he went on to seek out actual blood. Actual bones. Actual brains. 

Steve let it happen, watched Venom's revenge unfold as if he was nothing but a detached bystander. He would worry about guilt later. He would worry or he wouldn't. None of it mattered. Nothing that died between Venom's teeth, nothing that he swallowed whole even reached Steve on the inside of Venom. Nothing, no one could touch him in here. 

He wanted to stay. He ached to stay with Venom. 

Not the other way around. 

Steve couldn't tell how many guards died on their way, how many rooms they've raided on their quest to find Eddie. He couldn't tell how much time it cost. The second, Steve was aware that they've found him, the second Venom's entire form sighed with relief, was the second he was dropped cold and naked to the floor. Venom was eager to bond with Eddie, and Eddie only. 

Steve was disoriented for a long moment, needing time to collect himself. He felt groggy and hungover. Still feverish and cold at the same time. 

Out of all his senses he hadn't exactly expected his nose to come to itself first. But the smell of blood was everywhere. It was so persistent that the air felt heavy, metallic and poisonous. He coughed, coughing turning into gagging, threw up from an empty stomach. But the scent remained. Clung to the insides of his airways and his lungs. Coated his tongue and the back of his teeth. It was everywhere around him. Everywhere inside him. 

"Now let's get you dressed." It was Eddie, holding out a hand to help Steve up. Steve needed another second to reach out in return. The sight of Eddie revived some of the hope that seemed long gone. He looked, for a lack of poetic thoughts, just so much better. Less sweaty and less pained. He stood taller, walked with more ease. The only black lines that remained on his body were the tattoos. And they looked so much better without the lingering gray ghost of Venom's own suffering. 

Eddie even smiled at him, but Steve barely managed a nod. He felt drained and exposed, and although it was good to see Eddie alive, to see him be well and alive above all, Steve didn't know how to put it into words. Didn't know how to put it into a gesture even. Or just an expression. 

The plan had worked, better than expected, a million times better than expected, although they had been just a couple of minutes away from their own deaths. But he couldn't believe it just yet. 

They stayed with each other even if it was the wrong thing to do. Even if they would have had a better chance at finding Carol faster if they'd separated. Neither of them addressed the option. 

In the adjoining room of the laboratory, Steve finally found his clothes piled up in a plastic tray. The sweats and one of the stained white shirts. Next to his own was another pair of piled up pants, and Steve grabbed them without another thought, heart racing with worry and fear. 

Wordlessly, they searched through every room, Venom showing himself  only when they needed to push through a locked door or if they've encountered armed guards. There was nothing to say until they knew that Carol was okay. That she was alive at least. 

If the plan had come together too late for her, than it had come together too late for Steve. She was, after all, much like he had been Bucky's, Steve's mission. And although he felt guilty even worrying about that now, he couldn't shake off the thought. Couldn't turn off the part of his brain that was already wading through the responsibilities he had taken on. Far more than just one life. 

"Over here," Eddie hissed and Steve followed. He didn't know how Eddie knew where to go. Maybe Venom knew. 

They passed another laboratory, similar to the one so familiar to Steve, and a third one after that. It was only when they stepped into a small adjoining file room that Steve understood what Venom was after. 

A trembling breath escaped him, horror and relief tightly intertwined when his eyes fell on Carol in the corner of the room. Her hands were burned and bloody once more, but it couldn't have just been her blood. Two dead guards were lying in front of her, bodies and throats torn open, the smell of burned flesh everywhere. She was naked from the waist down, still in the shirt Steve had last seen her in, though it was soaked in blood. She drew in her knees when she saw them, hiding from their gazes. 

Behind Steve, Eddie let Venom take over. Venom, who licked his teeth and then pried the brains from the guards' heads. The sound of the cracking skulls forced Steve to close his eyes just for a second to keep from throwing up again. 

He handed Carol her pants, and when she rushed to put them on he could tell that she was in pain. Not from the hormones, not from the fights. He could tell then that the smeared blood on the insides of her thighs weren't from the guards either. 

There was nothing to say. And thus Steve was left staring. Staring at the verge of tears until she stood right in front of him, meeting his eyes head on. 

"Where are they?" she asked and Steve shrugged. They hadn't been looking for vials and Petri dishes. They had been looking for her. 

She grabbed him by the wrist, her skin still hot and wet, and dragged him along. Venom followed suit, retreated back into Eddie's body after swallowing one of the hearts he took along to snack on the way. 

They didn't have to look for long. It had already happened. Within the last laboratory, they've found eight work stations, each equipped with a high-tech magnifying camera that showed the relentless proliferation of the cells, holding their combined DNA. 

Carol stopped in her tracks, taking it all in, and let go of Steve only when he was stood right next to her. 

"Those are some ugly babies," Eddie said, stepping up to her side as well. 

"That's the first batch," Steve added dryly and detached. 

"They're abominations, Eddie." It was Venom, his voice so familiar to Steve it was almost soothing by now. He was coming out of Eddie's shoulder, a much smaller version of his usual self, just a head with eyes and teeth and that slithering tongue. Smaller, yes, but only slightly less terrifying than Venom's other form. 

"They're immune to fire," Steve said absently, remembering that doctor in the examination room. Wondering briefly what Venom had done to them. "Immune to Carol's powers." 

"Immune to her and immune to other symbiotes," Eddie stated, watching the screens with his head tilted to the side. 

"They're still human," Steve said. If he was supposed to feel anything at the sight of the embryos, his body had missed that memo. All he felt was dead inside. "Partly," he added. 

"And part Kree," Carol told them. "A very small part." 

"What now?" Eddie asked. None of them dared to move closer. They just stood there, perfectly aligned, and stared at what once had been parts of themselves. 

"We have to destroy them," Carol said. Giving voice to what Steve hadn't dared to speak out loud. Even Venom nodded at that. 

"You sure?" Eddie asked, but he wasn't talking to either Steve or Carol.  He was checking in with his symbiote. "These are the only ones," Eddie said. Reminded Venom of the lost seeds. The stolen seeds. Although it was just a miniature version of Venom's head, he seemed to shrug at that. 

Steve looked at Carol next to him. He didn't know what their meds did to them. The hormones and the drugs. He didn't know if he could still have kids after this. If Carol could. And the question wouldn't have occurred to him, if not for Eddie's question. For his reminder to Venom that these _things_ , these lumps of cells, could be the only ones. 

"Super soldier alien babies," Steve said, still trying to coax an emotional reaction out of his body. 

"No offense, but I don't want your babies," Carol said, standing as still and motionless as all of them. "Either one of you. Or both of you." 

"Technically, these aren't mine at all," Eddie argued gently. "I'm just a step parent here." 

"We didn't ask for this," Steve said. Reminded himself of the situation. "We didn't agree to this." 

"Look," Eddie started, leaning forward just a little so he could look at both of them. "All you have to do is decide. No questions asked, no judgement." 

Steve looked back over the screens, one by one, and then he turned, marched back silently and alone into the room he was supposed to die in, not turning back even when Eddie called after him. He didn't need to search longer than one second before he found what he was looking for. He grabbed the bag of IV fluid from the hanger and walked back to the others, realizing only now, and with a generous amount of gratitude, that Venom had taken care of the needle and his arm all the same. 

All of them, including Venom, stared at him when he entered the small laboratory again. 

"What?" he asked. "We've already decided, haven't we?" He looked back and forth between their faces. Checked in with Venom as well, although his face was more difficult to read. "We didn't want this. We still don't want this. Not eight of them. Not even one." 

Carol nodded and Eddie kept his expression blank. He was committed to remaining neutral in all of this. Steve couldn't deny that he appreciated that. Admired it even. 

"So I'm going to end it," Steve added. He didn't want to say he was going to kill them. Mostly because he didn't even know if those things were alive at all. He really didn't care either. 

Carol nodded again, and though Steve could relate to her detachment, right that second, he needed a little more than that. 

"Just tell me," he pleaded quietly, "just tell me you don't want these." 

"I don't want these, Steve," Carol said. Her words loosening his chest, giving him room to exhale. 

He waited still on any verbal decision from Venom, but he was preoccupied whispering into Eddie's ear. 

"It's your decision, love," Eddie just said to Venom, remaining neutral even when it came down to his symbiote. "Whatever you choose, we'll make it work." 

Venom turned to Steve, looked at him with white eyes that were anything but empty. "Do it, Steve" the symbiote said then, giving him all the affirmation needed. "Destroy them." 

It was Steve's turn to nod then, acknowledging what they've decided. What he was going to do to whatever was made from them. 

Carefully, he opened the glass container that each held one fertilized and symbiote-infused egg cell, and drowned it in the lethal fluid that was meant to end Steve's life instead. Eddie, Venom and Carol wordlessly watched the lumps of cells crumble and die on the screens. None of them showed any sign of regret. Or compassion. And neither did Steve. Nor did he feel any of that. 

It was the right choice. 

They stared at the dead cells for a couple more minutes, just to be sure they were gone and didn't survive their toxic bath. None of them had. All eight embryos or whatever they were lay dead in their waters. 

"Let's get out of here," Steve said gently but determined. He needed to leave this place. Burn it to the ground. 

Destroying the base wasn't as easy as he thought though. As they made their way through the building, Steve couldn't have guessed what was waiting for them once they've finally pushed through an exit. 

The strong wind hit his face and almost set him off balance. He only found his stance again, because Eddie held him by the elbow. Heavy mist lay all over the landing site, waves crashing against the base from every side. 

"What the hell," he yelled through the storm. "This is the middle of a fucking ocean." 

Carol pulled him back into the shelter of the doorway, before addressing him quietly. Quieter than ever before. "You said there was someone waiting for us." 

"I have to find a radio," was all he could say, already stumbling back into the hallway. Back into the bloody air and the graveyard they've left behind. 

He stumbled over the floor, checking the bodies for radios and phones. Anything he could use to call for help. 

With the others waiting for him at the exit, the silence crept right under his skin, making him carry a heavy solitude. 

The deeper he walked back into the army base, the sicker he felt. Nervousness and anxiety reaching every part of his body. He wanted to leave this place behind. That was all he wanted. 

There were bodies in every room. Rooms he had no recollection of being in, but he must have been, he must have been here with Venom. 

"Come on," Steve begged fate, begged the universe to help him out. "Where is it?" There was no chance in hell this place didn't at least have one way to reach the outside world. 

His search let him through familiar rooms too, the laboratory, the examination room. He was about to move on when something caught his eye, just the smallest reflection of light. 

He moved closer, carefully, and sank down on one knee to pick up the small shining ring. There was no sign of earring-guy's body, not a trace of blood left on the metal. 

Steve swallowed, then closed his fist around the tiny silver circle and marched on. He had a mission to finish after all. 

He got lucky, finally, when he discovered what looked like that handler's decapitated body, radio clipped to the belt on his backside. 

Steve tried it there, but the reception was awful. He kept trying though, on his entire way back, never not asking if someone was there, if someone, preferably Nat, copied. 

There was a lot of static and disturbance, and he had almost reached where the others were waiting for him, when the only voice that mattered then echoed through the radio. 

"Steve?" Nat asked, over white noise and the blowing wind. "Steve, is that you?" 

"We're in the middle of fucking nowhere, Nat," he barked into the speaker, barely recognizing his own voice. "It's a base out on the goddamn sea." 

"Heading out now," she said immediately. "Took you long enough. We were starting to worry." 

"Fuck you," Steve said, but despite it all, he was smiling. Stood there in the middle of the hall smiling at Eddie and Carol who waited for him still. Beaming with relief. "Can you come find us?" he asked, tears in his eyes by now. 

More static, crackling noises. But then Nat's voice as clear as hope could ever be. 

"Roger that." ...

 


	10. Chapter 10

Although, by Steve's best guess, she had never seen Fury's new _office_ , Carol walked the past his agents and lead them through the tunnels as if she owned the place. She was eager to talk to him while Steve dreaded the conversation. 

He wanted to shower. He wanted to shower and he wanted to hurt someone. Assert some kind of power, some kind of punishment over anyone. 

He had fallen behind. Bad foot slowing him down. Sam and Bucky in front of him had brought some distance between them, trying to be stealthy. 

Bucky's head blocked the view on every second step, but from the glimpses Steve could catch it looked as if Nat and Eddie were- 

 _flirting_. 

Of. Fucking. Course. 

He slowed down even more, eventually came to a halt with his friends moving farther and farther away from him. 

He didn't need to be here. He didn't want to be here. All he wanted was that shower. Thinking about why made his stomach turn. 

Sam noticed his missing steps first, and Steve wondered why it wasn't Bucky. But he already knew why. 

Without saying anything, Sam turned around and looked him over. Steve hadn't seen his own face since the memories of the locker room. Since his own reflection next to Sharon's. Somehow he just hadn't assumed he looked different now. Everything else was the same. His hands, his chest, his voice. His thoughts weren't the same though, and maybe it showed. 

There was worry in Sam's eyes. Worry first and recognition only later. And whatever was in Steve's eyes, in his face, must have given it away. Given away that he, too, was only recognizing his friend under layers of other things. That he could barely recognize Sam at all. 

Bucky turned now too, but he wasn't startled by Steve's sight. He scoffed, deeming none of this unusual. Steve, the rebellious kid. Steve, the unwilling hero. Steve, the martyr. Steve, the drama queen. 

It seemed like an odd gesture when Sam's hand came out to stop Bucky from staggering down the tunnel and over to Steve, as if it was a bad idea. Bucky was oblivious to it though, walked right through it with casual ease, everything about his body looking broader. Bigger. Stronger. 

And if Steve hadn't already been ridiculously attracted to him for a hundred years, he would have been now. And maybe part of him even rediscovered the attraction anew. As if it had long been forgotten and lost in the ice. As if it had never been there before. As if it was the first time he ever saw Bucky walk towards him. 

"Now's not the time to quit, Steve," Bucky said, his voice a little strained yet sweet in Steve's ear. "Remember? We can do this all day." 

If only. 

Buck didn't let him slip away. He hooked his arm under Steve's and nudged him along. "We're gonna finish the mission," he said. 

"I will," Steve said, his words way too small and quiet for Bucky to catch them. "I will finish the mission." And then he shook Bucky's hand off. 

It was his mission. 

He did this. He saved them. 

Well, Venom did. But Bucky hadn't. Sam hadn't. 

"You weren't there," Steve said, barely audible still. But Bucky was paying attention now. He had caught his hand mid-air in a what-the-fuck-gesture. He didn't understand the rejection. 

"No, I wasn't," he agreed. He didn't try to touch Steve again, probably only because he had started moving again and it was enough to satisfy Bucky's intention. "It happens," Buck added, and then, because he wasn't above delivering some of the cheapest low blows, he reminded Steve, "happened to the both of us." 

And yeah, he was right. Steve hadn't been there for Bucky either. For when Bucky was tortured by Hydra. Wiped by Hydra. Raped by Hydra. Neither of them were better than the other one. 

Sam gave his shoulder a friendly pat when Steve passed him, but he waited for Bucky before moving along behind him. 

They really were a big fucking mess. 

With Sam and Bucky gone from his sight, Steve couldn't stop himself from throwing some longing glances at Eddie's back, where Venom was still wrapped all around him. Quietly and still. Moving with Eddie's body, and shifting with his muscles and skin. 

Steve wanted to reach out, dip his hand into the symbiote. He wanted to be pulled inside. 

When Nat and Eddie stopped right before entering Fury's office, Steve brushed right past her, following Carol into the lion's den. She hadn't bothered to pause, bothered to knock, and he was supposed to return her after all. 

Sam and Bucky stayed outside with the others. 

There hadn't been much time and Steve hadn't wasted a single thought on what he expected Fury to do. Or Carol for that matter. 

 _He's important to me too,_ was what she had told him back in their cell, but now they just stared at each other like strangers. Maybe not unlike he and Bucky had stared at each other in Bucharest. Maybe not unlike the way he and Sam had just stared at each other in the hall. 

"Starforce lady," Fury said from behind his desk, a grin spreading across his face, genuine and ...- 

… and happy. 

"Agent Fury." Carol cocked her head to the side, in that arrogant, self-assured way she so often did, smirking too as she spoke. "You missed me?" 

"You have no idea," Fury told her as he stood up to meet her half way. They allowed each other a short but tight and heartfelt hug before they stepped apart. There were uglier things to discuss. Steve's presence being testament to the true reason these two were reunited. 

"So, you brought her back after all," Fury said, facing Steve with a much harder gaze. 

"I did what you asked me to do, Sir." Steve knew everything about him was blank. It wasn't just his words. It was his expression, the empty eyes and the missing vigor. 

"Don't you _sir_ me, Cap," Fury growled. This was more like it. It was how Steve knew him. He hadn't known of a softer side to Fury's orders. But dogs that barked didn't bite. "For a bit there I thought we had lost you." He went in for a shoulder pat too, but then squeezed Steve's arm instead. 

Steve, however, was still hollowed out and drained. And he still felt what they did. What they did to his body, and what they did to his soul. He still heard Carol's screams even in the one ear that was still deaf. He was standing here, all six foot tall and breathing, but they had lost him. Fury had lost him. He had lost himself. 

"Well, I'm grateful we didn't," Fury added, eager to wrap it all up. "As always, your services were much appreciated. Why don't you wait outside for a moment, hm?" He didn't need to spell it out. It wasn't over yet. Steve wasn't dismissed. No honorable discharge. Mission status still pending. He wouldn't send him home anytime soon. 

"What about the others?" Steve asked, voice flat and tongue slow. "What about my friends? Are they," he paused, trying to put more emphasis on his next word, " _free_ to go?" 

"I said I'll take care of it," Fury reminded him, but it wasn't that Steve had forgotten. He was out of trust. 

"When?" Steve asked. He needed to get them out of this mess. His mess. He needed to get them out without being arrested. Needed to get himself out of it without ever seeing a single prison cell from the inside ever again. 

"When I've talked to Carol about what happened. About what needs to be done now," Fury said. "After I've heard your report." 

"I can tell you exactly what happened," Steve snapped. He could feel the anger rushing through his blood. "They were using all of us for some kind of fucked up breeding program. A whole generation of super soldiers with photon powers and alien symbiotes. Oh, and they were immortal too. Right until I killed them. And what you need to do now," he said and even took a step forward, "is to make those arrest warrants disappear." 

Fury looked at him with a mixture of dissatisfaction and disgust. "You have no authority here anymore, Steve. Not here, not anywhere else. So, if I were you," Fury threatened in return and walked up right into Steve's face, "I'd be more careful with those orders you throw around." 

"Fuck you, Fury." The words just slipped right out and Steve couldn't even pretend to feel guilty about it. 

There was a second for Steve to wonder if Fury would take it all back now. Call his agents and have them all arrested on the spot. Hand them over to the very same people who had allowed for that army base to be built in the first place. He even mentally prepared for it. Prepared to look at Bucky and tell him that he had failed him again. That some handler was already licking his fingers at the thought of having the asset back. 

"What's this about?" Carol asked then, but she kept her rightful distance. "What kind of arrest warrants?" 

"Just a minor disagreement between the government and Cap's little crew here," Fury stated, his tone cold. He refused to back off, but so did Steve. 

"As if it hadn't been your goal, always, to command us. Control us," Steve spat. Someone had to hear it. That no mission was ever completed. And that all missions had always come with losses. That they had never been protectors but flexible and durable human shields. Someone had to take his anger. 

"Not me," Carol said. Her voice was calm, but it enraged Steve all the same that she argued for the other side. 

"No, not you," he repeated. "Never you, right? You're too special." 

To his surprise, to his shock really, Carol actually snorted at that. It made even Fury turn and got him out of Steve's face finally. 

She caught Steve's eye and he could tell she didn't care. But they both knew he sounded like a class A douchebag. The three of them knew. And this time, he regretted every word. 

"I think we'll just head out," Carol said, and Steve was fully aware that he didn't deserve her support. He was angry about it too. He was angry about everything. He didn't need her to take his side now that he looked just a little bit unstable. "I think it might be better if everyone gets to have a shower first. And some sleep maybe. We can talk later," she offered. 

"Do you think I'll let just anybody pluck you from the sky, use you for whatever thing he just talked about," Fury started and pointed at Steve, "and then just let you go without a full report? How did they even know how to find you? How did they even know about you?" 

Carol raised her eyebrows at Fury as if the answer was obvious to anyone but him. 

"No one on my side talked," he insisted immediately. 

"I'm sure there are files," she just shrugged. 

"Files that I keep in here," Fury said, pointing at his temple. 

"Maybe you trusted some of the wrong people," Carol wondered and crossed her arms in front of her body. "Wouldn't be the first time." 

"I don't trust anyone," Fury stressed. He didn't like to be interrogated. To have to defend himself and his ways to operate. 

"I don't have time for this," she snapped then, sounding a lot like Fury himself. Suddenly, Steve wasn't the only one carrying anger. Suddenly, he wasn't the only one who wanted to punish someone for what happened to them. "Once I've recovered, I might just leave. Not come back here. Someone once told me that this planet is a shithole and maybe they weren't entirely wrong after all. You'll be on your own, Agent Fury." 

Although she undoubtedly tried to put distance between them with the way she addressed Fury, everyone in the room could tell it was false pretense. She liked Fury and it resonated in every word she spoke to him. 

"You wouldn't," Fury just told her. He had calmed down. "And we both know it. I'm not the only friend you have here." He looked back at Steve before facing Carol again. "Now let's sit down and discuss what you saw at the military base so that I know what I'm dealing with." 

"What about Sharon?" Steve asked, suddenly reminded that she was the first to alert Fury that government officials, military personnel and scientists were conspiring on that secret base. 

"She's alive," Fury said, his tone void of any emotion. "Suspended though, for refusing to follow my orders." 

"She wanted to protect me," Steve argued. 

"She put you in even more danger." Anger was creeping back into Fury's voice. He was tired of debating Steve over minor issues. "She was supposed to be in there with you." 

"Did you know what they were doing?" Steve asked, voice low, and he stepped back. Giving Fury more room for contemplation. "Did you know what they wanted me for? Why they went out of their way to get Carol in the first place? Build a fucking spaceship to capture her?" 

Fury looked at him as if he was insane. He laughed in disbelief. But if Sharon had known, albeit vaguely, what Steve was getting himself into by accepting the mission, Fury knew too. He's had this job long enough to make educated guesses. He was a goddamn liar. 

"I want that mission report, Captain," Fury said, walking back behind his desk. He only had leverage on Steve, so he didn't bother ordering Carol to talk. Maybe he knew she would tell him eventually. Maybe he just hoped she wouldn't leave Steve alone after witnessing the level of tension between them. And she didn't. She waited for Steve to move first, but then she sat down next to him, neither of them filling the wide chairs. 

And then, however unwillingly, they told him everything. Carol went first, given that she was taken to the base days before Steve. Given that it was her story that Fury was primarily interested in. Given that it was her treatment he was aiming to avenge. When it was Steve's turn, he stared past Fury into an empty distance. Remembered every detail that had been stuck in his thoughts. That had become part of him. Part of his mind, his body. _His_ story. 

He recalled it as if it was someone else's though. As if whoever was hurt and humiliated was just a stranger on his mission. Barely there and forgotten after the last epic fight sequence. That's how it always went, didn't it? 

By the time he was done, he almost believed it. That it hadn't been them. That it hadn't been him. He could almost put it aside and remember those past days as nothing more than a routine rescue mission. A successful rescue mission. 

He could lie to his mind, but he couldn't lie to his body. His body still knew. It would never feel the same. His body still knew, right this second, as he told this story as if it had happened to someone else, it still knew about the missing underwear. About the aching parts. And the missing symbiote. It screamed right over the lies he tried to tell himself. 

"Can we go now?" Steve asked, made eye contact with Fury for the first time since he'd sat down. He tried to hide it, but there was just a hint of pity written on Fury's face. Hints of a guilty conscience, however, were nowhere to be found. 

"Where is Eddie now?" Fury asked instead, the symbiote had obviously piqued his interest. 

"Outside," Steve said, he was tired of fighting Fury on every word. "With Nat and the others." 

"You can't have him," Carol said, objecting when Steve couldn't. He was grateful for it. 

"I'm never not recruiting," Fury commented and leaned back into the chair. With his legs spread and his arms to his sides, the giant chair seemed just right for him. 

Carol just shook her head. It was enough for Fury to surrender. He held up his palms and shrugged, then opened a drawer to pull out a card. 

"Well, if he changes his mind," Fury said and slid the card over to Carol. To Steve, here in this hidden high-tech facility, it almost looked vintage. Plain old paper with nothing but a number on it. 

Carol tapped the card on the desk before she stood up. There was nowhere to put it, so she just held onto it between two scarred fingers. "It was good seeing you again," she said, voice gentle and genuine. 

"Come by before you leave?" Fury asked, his tone and posture had softened too. "There's this new karaoke bar that just opened-," he finished the sentence with nothing but an almost coy smile. 

Carol smiled back and nodded. Judging by the look on her face, she was slightly moved by his words. 

Steve didn't bother to even try and understand what it all meant. 

When they walked out, the others were sitting on the floor, back against the wall in a perfect row. It was Eddie who Steve's gaze fell onto first, the sight causing him to miss a step and stumble out of Fury's office. 

He had seen him like this too often in the past week. 

"We're leaving," Carol said, waiting for anyone to get up. But no one, except Eddie, moved. 

"And go where?" Nat asked. She looked over to Steve, wanting him to get involved. 

"Wherever you're staying," Carol just said, and Steve stared at her, not understanding. 

"You still need those warrants cleared, right?" she asked him. "Might be better if I stay close until it happens. Fury's not going to send cops after me." 

She had a point and Steve knew she was right. He didn't want to let her go either, but he didn't know how to combine these two worlds. Part of him didn't want to bring the horror back to the safe house. Part of him thought he shouldn't be there either. 

She could see his doubts. Maybe she felt them too. "I'm not back yet," she added. Showed him his hands and the smallest glow beneath the skin. "Not healed yet. And neither are you." Despite Venom closing all open wounds, there was enough evidence for anyone to know it was true. He wasn't fully back yet either. And he had no idea how long it would take. 

"I think it's best if we stay together," Carol said, although she knew about his hesitations. His struggle to take this back into the real world. His real life. "For safety," she offered, but Steve knew it wasn't the only reason. 

It had been the real world. And it had been his real life. And only two other people knew what it was like. They needed each other. Steve needed them. 

While there may have been more logical, safety related reasons for Steve and Carol to stay close, Eddie's situation was different. He had Venom and the symbiote was doing alright. The symbiote could protect him. The symbiote could heal him. When Steve looked at him, he was not so secretly hoping he would stay nonetheless. 

"They came to my home," Eddie reminded him. Right, how could Steve forget. "I'm not going back there for a while," he added and then frowned. It only occurred to him that he might never be able to live there in peace ever again. Venom hadn't been able to protect him then. And Eddie hadn't been able to protect the symbiote. There was guilt and pain everywhere Steve looked. "I might need to make a phone call," he added carefully. There was a tentative question in his words. "Tell someone I'm okay." 

"We have a phone at the house," Steve assured him and checked in with Nat with nothing more than a glance. She nodded. 

It wasn't just about the phone. It was about taking Eddie and Carol with them. He needed her to be with him on that. Needed her to help with his decisions. 

"Let's head out then," Sam announced as he stood up. He didn't bother to hold out a hand. Neither for Nat nor for Bucky. They were still trying to pretend nothing was going on between them. So he just waited awkwardly for Bucky to follow him on his own. 

Sam walked them out to a van with tinted windows and an unregistered license plate. Maybe a courtesy of Fury's. Maybe they had gotten their hands on it another way. Steve didn't even want to know. There was only so much he could worry about. 

Buck headed to the passenger side on autopilot, but once he realized what he was doing, he turned back, let Nat take his spot while he, once again, slid into the seat next to Steve. 

It hurt. 

It hurt, because all Steve wanted was to hug him. And crawl into his body as if he was Venom. He wanted Buck to look after him, to stay close and to hold him. But every touch of him felt forced now. And Steve started to feel guilty. Feel guilty for what had happened and that it caused Bucky a fair amount of guilt in return. He felt ashamed that Buck would never leave him now, and he felt ashamed that he still wished it could work out like that. That he wished Bucky could fall for him like that. Stay with him. 

They drove for hours and although everyone was silent at first, the tension started to dissolve within the first thirty minutes. Sam commented on every minor inconvenience, like red lights and confused drivers from out of state, while Nat threatened to take over the wheel whenever he used the horn to air out his frustration. "You're acting like a douchebag," she warned, "while you drive like a teenager with a learning permit." 

Buck, Carol and Steve were all squeezed into the first backseat row while Eddie lounged in the second alone. The distance didn't stop him and Nat from resuming their flirtations though. 

He laughed at her jokes and she always switched the radio to a different station when he got bored of the song that was playing. He asked her a bunch of questions about her skills, noting that there seemed to be nothing she couldn't do. 

At times he put his arms on the backrest between Steve and Carol, with his chin on the back of his hand. Whenever something Nat said prompted him to gesture wildly, he accidentally brushed Carol's shoulder and yelped from the subsequent shock the contact caused to the symbiote. 

It made Steve grin with schadenfreude every time. A sentiment that was mirrored in Carol's little smirk. 

Bucky was silent. He sighed every now and then if someone said something particularly stupid. Steve could tell he was stressed. While everyone else seemed to ease up, Bucky's body was still stiff and tense, he couldn't make himself relax. Steve knew it wasn't just what was still unspoken between them, it wasn't just what Bucky did with Sam when he thought Steve was asleep. It was having two people around that were unpredictable to him. It was knowing what Steve risked for the charges against them to be dropped. And on top of that, Steve could only guess the kind of memories that were revived from what little Steve had shared about what happened. That were revived by the look on Steve's face alone, or his tortured body in stained, dirty clothes that had one purpose only: easy to take off. 

It was one of those times when Eddie's head was sticking out next to them from the back again when it happened. He supported his head with his knuckles against one temple on Carol's side and let the other arm almost dangle over Steve's shoulder. 

At first, Steve thought, --and it went through him like a shock too, through him how he imagined it felt like for Eddie when he touched Carol, only much, much colder--, at first Steve thought it was one of Eddie's fingers, sneaking under the seam of his short sleeve, and he froze, held his breath although his heart started to race. But he glanced down to discover that it wasn't Eddie, but one of Venom's tendrils, sneaking past the edge of the fabric. Not that it lessened the shock. 

Steve moved his eyes back up, watched the street through the windshield. He didn't want to spook the symbiote. Or Eddie. Or alert Bucky next to him. But Bucky was glaring at Sam anyway. While Sam recounted the story to everyone in the car of how Buck, as the Winter Soldier, ripped the steering wheel from him that one time on the bridge. 

Venom set out to explore the skin over Steve's biceps and under his arm, although the symbiote couldn't pretend that he didn't knew this body inside and out. Literally. 

Steve had the feeling that Eddie was as oblivious as to what was going on as he lead Steve to believe. For now, he seemed to mainly enjoy Sam's story. 

It was the same kind of unsolicited touching that had been going on when it was Steve, seeking out Eddie's skin as he slept. And like Eddie then, Steve leaned into it just the slightest bit. And otherwise surrendered himself to whatever the symbiote was up to. It distracted him from everything else. Distracted him from the way Sam spoke Bucky's name. And how carefully he avoided any mention of what the Winter Soldier meant to Steve. 

Venom's touch wasn't like any human touch. He sensed any bodily reaction even before Steve was consciously aware of any discomfort. And by then the symbiote had already found a more soothing spot. 

At one point, Eddie tried to sit back. Venom was wrapped all around the part of Steve's upper arm that was covered by his shirt, and had spread out tentatively over his collarbone and heart, spreading a dry warmth that relaxed all muscles and made Steve almost tear up with how good it felt. Steve couldn't tell if Eddie felt something tugging on his skin, or if Venom objected to his move, because although he shifted in his seat a little, he returned to his previous position almost immediately. 

Carol commented on his return with only a look of utter annoyance, which turned into one of her fond smiles a second later when Eddie grinned at her. Steve didn't dare to let his poker face falter though. He focused back on the street in front of them, ignoring the way Bucky dug his knees into the driver seat in front of him, obviously trying to get them all killed by punishing Sam for his anecdotes. 

It was already dark when they arrived at the safe house, and they stepped in one after the other in dead silence, listening for threats. But the house was empty and abandoned, everything was still how they had left it when they'd taken off. 

Nothing had changed in the bedroom either, Steve noticed with heart wrenching pain. It meant that Bucky hadn't even slept in their room after he went to see Fury with Nat, some days before Sam and Buck had come after them. 

The sheets, the pillows, the book on the nightstand. Everything was untouched. This wasn't their room anymore. This wasn't were Bucky wanted to be. 

Steve blinked away a couple of heavy tears. Not now, he told himself. Now wasn't the time. 

It was only a matter of seconds before Bucky walked in behind him, strangely careful as if he had never even lived here in the first place. 

"Steve?" Buck asked tentatively. He waited just a couple of feet from the door. Steve tilted his head in acknowledgement, but didn't turn around. "Tell me what happened," Buck pushed. 

"I could really use a shower," Steve tried to avoid the issue. He had told it all to Fury, but he wasn't sure he could ever do it again. 

"Carol's in it," Bucky said. And then again, "tell me what happened." He wouldn't be satisfied with a stupid deflection. 

Steve shrugged. "I should at least change." He opened a drawer and pulled out a shirt, hoping it would be the end of their conversation. 

But Bucky didn't move. His presence as insistent as his words. 

"I'd really like to change my clothes," Steve again. 

"What's the matter?" Bucky asked. "I've seen you get dressed a million times," he said, reminding Steve of who he was talking to. "If not more," Buck added under his breath. 

"I think you shouldn't sleep here tonight," Steve said finally, still with his back turned. "I don't think I can do any of this right now." 

"Any of what exactly?" Bucky asked, he wouldn't just let it go. Steve shrugged again, his fingers playing with the clean shirt in his hands. "Steve?" Buck asked again. "Any of what?" 

Steve stared at the colorful fabric in front of him. He wanted to never wear white again. Never wear gray again. 

"Will you please look at me?" Bucky asked, almost desperately. He didn't know what to do, but neither did Steve. 

"Look, Buck," he started, finally turned around, although he didn't know where to look. Bucky's eyes were too demanding and his gaze was too heavy for Steve to bear. Weighed down by worries. "When you started to remember things, you needed your time alone, right?" Steve tried to explain. Although any explanation was a lie. "I just need some space," he went on. He, too, was too cowardly to ask Bucky about Sam. 

Bucky nodded, because what else was he going to do. "Yeah," he agreed, but Steve could see his expression darken. "And I told you it was a fucking mistake," he added, but was already out the door before Steve could even think of an answer. 

He sat down on his bed, wondering if the shirt he had pulled from the drawer was even his. Maybe it had belonged to Bucky once. Before everything was just one big pile of clothes that everyone took from. 

There was a knock on the open door, Steve expected it to be Bucky with another sentence or two about how Steve was being an idiot. He couldn't even deny that he was ready to apologize to him. Invite Bucky back for the night despite everything. But it wasn't Buck, it was Nat. 

"Looks like you've got yourself a new roommate," she said, dropping a pillow onto Steve's bed. "Did you really kick him out like that?" 

"I just need some space," Steve said, avoiding her eyes all the same. 

"Space, huh?" she asked. Of course, she could see right through him. Everyone could. Probably Bucky too. "You know what I do when I need space?" 

Steve shook his head. 

"I don't invite two strangers back into my house for an undetermined period of time," she said, coming to sit next to him on the bed. 

"Did he ask you to stay with me?" Steve asked, he wouldn't put it past Bucky to get him a babysitter. 

"I thought it'd be polite to give our guests some privacy?" she told him. "So, I gave Carol my room." 

"And Eddie?" Steve wondered. Wondered where Venom was in case anyone came looking for them. 

"Gave him the phone to make his call. He said he'd be fine on the couch," she smiled at Steve, and although he tried to return it, his face just wouldn't collaborate. "Guess, I could have crashed with Sam and Bucky, but I think we both know that it wouldn't be a good idea." Steve frowned, unsure if she meant their endless, tiresome banter, or something else entirely. "Right?" she asked gently. "We both know, don't we?" she asked, and then, when he exhaled, Steve finally felt like something else came loose. 

Something that had tied up his organs for far too long. He nodded as he gave way to those tears, holding onto the shirt and its happy bright colors. Nat put her arm around his neck and her head on his shoulder as he cried. Hesitant and quiet. 

No one else needed to know. 


	11. Chapter 11

He was safe. He was home. And yet, no matter what he tried, no matter how many times he turned or how many breaths he counted, Steve couldn't sleep. 

It wasn't Nat next to him. He was used to not sleeping alone. It wasn't that his head kept him up with worries, no more than usual at least. It was the silence that kept him from getting rest. And that whenever he closed his eyes, it was only a matter of time until he was faced with earring-guy's brown eyes and the way his lips used to part after moments of intense concentration. 

He had cleansed his body of all foreign traces, but whatever he had found underneath wasn't the body he'd left this house with. 

He couldn't make out Nat's face in the dark, but as far as he could tell she had fallen asleep hours ago. There was no reason for her here to pretend. 

It was too warm for sheets. The cells and the examination rooms had air-conditioning, were kept at a precise temperature always. Out here, the days were hot and the night did very little to cool the air. He had still longed for the soothing night all afternoon, his body wasn't used to the sun anymore. Wasn't used to the dark of the night either. Everything was suspiciously peaceful. 

Quietly, Steve rolled out of bed, careful not to disturb Nat, but he knew she'd register his every movement anyway. Everyone in this house did. 

But he didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want to explain himself. Instead, he shuffled through the room to the door without any pause, the wooden floor still warm beneath his feet. It was the second time that night that he stumbled down the stairwell to make his way to the bathroom. 

He had to tiptoe through the living room, and although Eddie was spread out on the sofa, at least three pillows under his head, Steve knew that he wasn't asleep either. He knew because, when he had walked past the sofa earlier that night, it had been empty. And there had been a dim light shining under the door of Carol's room. 

Steve knew that Eddie had clocked him in return by the first creak of the stairs. Neither of them said a word though, and Steve walked past him without another look. 

He managed to close the bathroom door behind him with only the slightest click of the lock, and immediately went for the lid of the toilet, pulled the seat up right with it. 

He hated this part. Pulling on the waistband, touching his cock even after he'd washed it. It was still sore, but it wasn't the pain that made things so difficult for Steve. Somewhere, he knew that his response to the assault should include self-kindness. And tender touches. But he couldn't deny that he wanted to hurt himself. Punish himself for what happened. For his compliance. And his body's weaknesses. 

With his dick in his hands, he hovered awkwardly in his place, shifting his weight without moving anywhere really. Scrunching his nose as he stared at the empty wall. He still felt drained of come and arousal, drained of any sexual intentions. He felt empty above all. 

But the hormones had left him with a phantom pressure on his bladder that wouldn't fade, and flared up irregularly. 

He had noticed it first in the car, but it didn't matter how often they'd stopped, how many times Steve headed for some shady bathroom stall or the nearest bush. A couple of drops, sometimes a little splash. That was it. And then half an hour later, Steve would feel the urge to go again. 

Yet, it wasn't just the feeling of needing to pee, the discomfort was always accompanied by the light sensation of overstimulation that started up right in his bladder and got him heading straight for the bathroom, but then sagged down deep into his testicles within minutes leaving him without relief. 

It was humiliating in itself, but he had his best friends, plus two strangers and one alien symbiote witnessing the entire back and forth every hour or so. Though, it wasn't fair to call Carol and Eddie strangers still. 

It didn't help that his room was the only one upstairs. There was little doubt that Buck and Sam heard him, too, every time he headed down. Everyone in this house was a fucking soldier or assassin. Well, everyone except Eddie. If he was lucky enough though, Carol may have been asleep by now. He was jealous of her even, although he didn't even know if it was true. 

It was difficult, if not impossible, for him to guess the side effects and any long-term consequences the fertility treatment had on her. And he had his doubts she would tell him she suffered like he did. They didn't know each other well enough for that. 

With his gaze still glued to the wall, he prayed to find some relief now, tried to relax his body as much as possible. He had no idea urinating could be this hard. 

Despite knowing just how stupid he would look, Steve began to slightly bounce on his feet, hoping gravity might help move things along. 

Nothing. 

He sighed, tucked himself back in. Felt the shame and the humiliation of the aftermath. Wondered if it would ever end. He was becoming a joke. 

Dutifully, he washed his hands, let the water run over his wrist and forearms as well. This was worse than the nightmares he had anticipated. 

With a gentle hand against the door and the other on the handle, he turned the lock back and let himself out. There was a good chance that there was no one left asleep appreciative of his caution, but he still held onto the hope that Carol might. That she didn't know about his jittery bladder. He hated keeping everyone up. 

"Can't sleep?" Eddie asked, when Steve had barely managed to take two steps. His voice was raspy and thick with sleep, but Steve guessed it was simply the fatigue of insomnia. 

Without realizing that his shape might be difficult to make out too, Steve shook his head. He was surprised that Eddie had spoken up. "Not really," he said then, keeping his own voice low. If Bucky wasn't sleeping, he'd be listening in. Steve still owed him some answers after all. 

"You wanna talk about it?" Eddie offered, but Steve wouldn't even know where to begin. Didn't even know if he was capable to put into words what was going on. 

Still, he moved a little closer. It would come in handy later to stay downstairs. Just in case. 

He glanced towards the other bedroom, where Sam and Bucky were just a door away. In the same bed. With their skin touching and their fingers intertwined. At least that was what Steve feared. 

"Can I sit?" he asked, feeling misplaced where he stood. 

Eddie gathered his limbs and pillows and, if Steve's eyes didn't betray him, a couple of stretched out strands of Venom, and squeezed himself into the corner of the sofa. Nothing Steve had ever seen looked more comfortable than that pile of soft cushions, alien goo and Eddie's fluffy hair. 

Steve settled across from him in an appropriate distance. Things were different here, different from their cell. 

"You don't have to pretend it didn't happen," Eddie reminded him. Of course, he'd say something like that. Eddie wasn't as messed up as Steve. He knew how to spell things out. "You know you're allowed to talk about it, right?" 

"Isn't that what you're doing?" Steve asked back, but it was more of an accusation. "Pretending nothing happened?" He was purposefully cruel. All of his anger was balled up inside with nowhere to go. He shouldn't have sat down in the first place. 

"You can ask me anything," Eddie told him and relaxed deeper into the pillows again. He even yawned as he organized his and Venom's body into a more comfortable position. 

Steve hesitated. He couldn't really see Eddie's face with how little light reached them from outside, but he felt stared at expectantly. Yet, Steve knew it was wrong to force Eddie to talk. And it was Eddie's right to keep to himself. 

Just like Steve had refused to talk to Bucky hours ago, when it was still light and the house didn't feel as dead. 

There was one thing Steve liked to know though. It was a long shot, but they had used Eddie's sperm for some kinds of experiments, so it wasn't unreasonable to assume they'd tested different things on him too. "Did they give you those hormones too?" Steve wondered. 

But Eddie shook his head, disappointing Steve's hopes. "Why? What's going on?" he asked. 

"Nothing," Steve lied. "Just stressed out. Feeling a little off. Nervous. Restless," he added. "I just wish it would go away." 

"Yeah, Carol said the same thing," Eddie told him as if it was just a meaningless remark. 

"I don't think I'm supposed to know that," Steve admitted. He thought Eddie wasn't supposed to just talk about these kind of things, but he kept that to himself. 

"Why not?" Eddie wondered. If Steve wasn't mistaken, if darkness and sleep deprivation didn't take a toll on his eyes, he could see him stroking over his chest while patches of Venom breached his skin, like breaching water surface, just under Eddie's palm, eager for more contact. A different kind of touch. 

"I think if she'd want me to know about these things, she'd might say a word," Steve guessed. He couldn't stop looking at Eddie's hand though. 

"She doesn't know how to talk to you," Eddie just said and then added, "none of us do." It caused the anger in Steve to stir again. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked. "That I'm not coping correctly?" He definitely was not coping correctly, but that was his business and not for anyone else to judge. 

"Not what I meant," Eddie said and yawned again. "None of us know how to talk about the stuff that happened. Not her. Not me. We don't even know half of the words of those procedures or whatever." 

Now, Steve felt guilty for snapping at him. Everything Eddie said was true. And although Steve had no idea how he did it, he admired that Eddie could name the issue at its core. And be so calm about it. 

"Is she in pain?" Steve asked then, trying to make up for his behavior. 

"Sometimes," Eddie told him honestly. 

"Is she sleeping?" Steve wondered. 

"Doubt it," Eddie said. "I'm sure it'll take a while for all of us." 

There was another question lingering in the back of Steve's mind, but he was hesitant to bring it up. Especially now, when his thoughts should be the people, and the alien, in his house. The dark gave him the illusion of safety though, of intimacy, so he asked nonetheless. "Does Venom know what happened to the guard that was in the lab with me?" 

"I do." It was Venom's voice coming from somewhere in Eddie's general direction. But no matter how hard Steve tried, he failed to make out his little alien head. 

Steve nodded his acknowledgement, but he didn't know yet just how many details he could digest. So he put that question back in the back of his head for another time and neither Venom nor Eddie provided any unsolicited answers. 

"Your friends are nice," Venom remarked, white eyes blinking sleepily in the crook of Eddie's neck, almost glowing in the dark now.  

Steve was grateful for the distraction and he nodded again. Maybe the symbiote could see him just fine. "Is the couch okay?" he asked. 

"You want to give it a try?" Eddie asked and the question hung heavily in the air. "It's a pretty big couch," he added, doubling down on his offer. 

Steve's mouth felt dry all of a sudden and he couldn't stop himself from thinking about Bucky in the other room. His heart started to race, from panic and anticipation alike. From indecision. 

He squirmed, moving his hand up his thigh. He had to pee again, his tensing body tightening all the wrong organs. 

"I just gotta-," he mumbled, pointed at the bathroom. Could Eddie even see his finger? "I'll be right back," Steve said. Headed for the bathroom for another try. 

Nothing. 

By now, Steve was sure he was cursed. 

Eddie hadn't moved and when Steve reemerged, his body decided for him. He wanted to lie down here. He wanted to close his eyes for half and hour and he hoped Venom's proximity would help him find some peace. 

Wordlessly, Steve headed for the couch and Eddie held out and arm for him, let Steve crawl as close as he wanted. Venom let him too, but he disappeared back into Eddie's body entirely. It was probably for the best, but a faint spark of jealousy lingered. Of disappointment. 

Eddie wrapped his arms tightly around Steve shoulder and pulled him close as if there had never been a different place for him. And Steve leaned into the embrace with his entire body. Somehow being touched by Eddie was even less threatening and more reassuring than the touch of his own hands. In that moment, Steve thought that being held was maybe all he ever needed. 

He jerked awake hours later, from the simple shock of having fallen asleep. By then, to Steve's utter surprise and confusion, Eddie's arms weren't the only ones wrapped around him anymore. A thin web of black alien mass was woven almost over the entire length of his arm, cooling the heated skin in a way the summer night couldn't. 

Of course Steve had shaken Eddie up along, but he just sank back into the sofa after registering no threat, arms squeezing Steve gently and pulling him back in. 

The next time Steve woke, it was almost dawn and Bucky stood in the middle of the room, eyes on him like he was a target. It took Steve a moment to realize that it wasn't a dream, and when he opened his mouth to speak, he was already being interrupted. 

"Yeah, right," Bucky said, "space."  

Steve stared, words forgotten, torn from him. Then he tried to choke them out. "Buck," he started, desperately. Confused. But Bucky was already on his way back to Sam's, back turned as he shook his head. 

Fuck. 

He rushed to his feet, tearing himself from Eddie and Venom, but then the door shut behind Bucky even before Steve could take a single step. 

"Fuck," he breathed, vaguely aware that Eddie must have been awake. But instead of turning to check, to say anything, even try to explain, he fled into the bathroom. "Fuck," he said to himself again, locking the door behind him. He slumped down with his back against the door, wishing it had all been a dream. He knew that he didn't need to feel guilty, but he did. He knew that he didn't need to hide, but he wanted. He wanted to stay here forever. 

At some point he dozed off, it was just all too much. He was woken up not so gently, when someone knocked against the door, tried to push through unsuccessfully. The sun was already up and Steve cursed the day for even showing its face. 

"Steve," it was Carol's voice on the other side. So she knew. Eddie probably told her. "Come on, it's me." 

He dragged his body away from the door and turned the lock, but he didn't bother to get up.  

She squeezed through, into the room with the door halfway open, possibly already suspecting his body to be in the way. 

"What's going on?" she asked, locking the door behind them. 

"It's nothing," he said, but he knew right away that it was a useless answer. "It's the hormones," he told her, hoping a half-truth would get him through this. "They're still messing me up. Everything hurts and then nothing comes out." 

He grimaced over his own words, but Carol watched him with a serious expression. It seemed she got what he was trying to explain anyway. 

"Can you stand?" she asked. He nodded, but didn't move until she held out a hand to pull him up. 

"Okay, just-," she started and then nudged him to turn. "Don't be scared," she said. 

"Not really a good opener," Steve told her, but he wasn't afraid at all. 

She stepped closer from behind him and put her hands on his hips, above his pajama pants. He couldn't see her, but he felt her breath on the back of his neck. It was calm and soothing. 

After a moment, she slowly let her hand slide down the fabric, until her palms were right above his bladder, dangerously close to his genitals. It was intimate, but he didn't feel threatened. 

He felt the warmth before he saw the glow peeking between her fingers like a sun between blinds. If anything, it made him less scared to know that she was recovering. 

She kept her hands there, just on the right spot, and Steve felt the tension leaving his body. He braced his body with his arms against the wall, relaxing into her touch. The dull ache and the phantom pressure receded slowly, the muscles in his lower abdomen softened. From time to time she pulled one hand back, placed it either on the side of his hips or the small of his back. He was short of crying from the relief. 

The warmth spread through his body, and the more Steve relaxed, the more he worried he would eventually piss himself with Carol right behind him. 

"I think I should," he stammered, feeling lucky that he couldn't see her. "Maybe try again." 

She let go of him, but didn't move away. Steve turned awkwardly but she didn't budge.  

"What?" she asked then. Shrugged in confusion, then opened one arm up, gesturing towards the toilet. 

"Thought you might wanna step out?" Steve asked, thinking she would get the not so subtle hint. 

"What if it wasn't enough yet," she said. "Don't you want to try first? It's not like I haven't seen you pee a million times in the last week." 

Steve really needed people to stop using their experiences with him to their advantage in arguments. Things were different for God's sake. 

"I can turn around," she offered. Head tilted and smirking. 

"I'm good," Steve said, but she wouldn't move. "Really," he stressed. "I think I'm alright now." 

Carol took a deeper breath and then bit her lip for a second. "Don't run out on him like that, okay?" 

Steve stared at her, feeling caught like a deer in the headlights. 

"Eddie," she clarified. But Steve was well aware what this was about. "He worries, you know? He worried he did something wrong." 

"Shit," Steve said, it was exactly how he felt like. "He didn't." 

"That's what I told him," Carol assured him. 

"I can tell him myself," Steve said, trying to step past her. 

"He's in my room," she told him, held him back by the arm. "Catching up on some sleep. You should do the same." 

"Is he okay?" Steve asked. Part of him wanted to ask Carol if he could just sleep in her room too. 

"Yeah," she told him. "He's alright. Just don't do it again." 

"I won't," he promised. He felt worse now for what he had done. How he had reacted. Felt guilty for how he tore himself from Eddie's arms. From Venom's body. 

He was still thinking about it when he crawled back into his own bed upstairs. He had passed Nat on her way to the shower, but she hadn't said anything about him missing from her side. Or his endless strolls to the bathroom. He was grateful for it. 

He struggled with the sheets, pulling them from the mattress and throwing them to the side. Into the far corner of the room. It was too warm now anyway to sleep under them and their pale color made him want to vomit. 

He curled in on himself on the naked bed instead, thinking of Eddie downstairs. The shape of his body and the weight of his arm around Steve last night. Thinking of Venom. Missing him. 

Missing them until he fell asleep. 

He registered the steps sometime later, the dip of the mattress when Nat sat down on the bed beside him. She brushed her fingers through his hair, until he looked at her. Eyes blinking from a heavy sleep. Carol's hands had really worked their magic. 

"I'm taking Carol back to Fury's," Nat said quietly. She played with the key to the van between her fingers. 

"I'll get dressed," Steve said immediately, already scrambling upright. 

"No," she interrupted him, gently holding him back by his shoulder. "It's nothing, Steve. She just wants to talk to him. Ask some whereabouts of a friend." 

Steve looked at her, trying to figure out if, without any of them noticing, Fury had recruited them right back. If these visits were going to happen more often now. Become a routine. Wondering when Fury would first hint at some crisis. Wondering who would be the first to sign onto another mission. And if anyone had to, Steve had rather it'd be him. 

"Can't she just call?" he suggested. 

"Steve," Nat said, and it was clear what she wanted to say. That Steve was being controlling. That he let his worries and self-projection interfere with Carol's autonomy. Her and Fury were friends. And she was, by no means, a prisoner here. Maybe Steve was. Maybe Nat and Sam and Bucky. Until the warrants went away. But not Carol. Not Eddie either. 

"Eddie's coming with me," she said as if she could read his mind. "With us." Nice save, Nat, he thought. "We'll be a while," she added, and Steve didn't really know what she was getting at. But then she waited for him to meet her eyes and drew in a heavy breath. "Bucky and Sam are downstairs," she said, looked at him for a long moment. He knew then what she was going to say even before she said it. "You should talk." 

She gave him the smallest smile and he had expected her to squeeze his arm or pat his shoulder, but instead she leaned in closer and placed a fleeting kiss on his forehead. When she got up, he smiled at her too, watching her leave. She turned just a few steps later, giving him another glance. Maybe she wanted to add something else, but she didn't. She was out the door when he blinked, leaving him alone in his room. 

Steve wasn't a coward, but he wasn't exactly eager to face Buck or Sam either, so he stayed in his room a while longer. Stretching out on the bed, relishing in feeling of the mattress beneath him brush along his naked skin whenever he moved. Relishing in the way his muscles relaxed, allowing himself the comfort of daydreams and innocent imagination. 

It was more than an hour later, when his bladder reminded him of reality, forced him out of bed. 

He could hear them bickering in the living room from the top of the stairs, though it was difficult to grasp what it was about. 

"You realize I live here too, right?" Buck asked. 

There was a pause, and Steve didn't need to be next to them to know exactly the deadpanned expression Sam pulled when he spoke again."I wish someone would have told me." 

"I'm literally sleeping in your bed," Bucky said annoyed, whatever they were arguing about had him in a bad mood. 

"Oh, that was you?" Sam questioned, fake surprised, mocking Buck relentlessly. "Look, Nat said he really likes these better lately," he went on. More serious now. "So where's the harm in sorting our stuff?" 

"Yeah, his taste is really off these days," Bucky remarked and it dawned on Steve that they were talking about him now. 

He was torn between eavesdropping and interrupting their conversation immediately. So he took just one careful step forward. 

"What's gotten into you?" Sam asked then, and Steve held his breath. He expected Bucky to tell him about what happened with Eddie that night. Why he had expected that, Steve couldn't tell. In hindsight it made no sense whatsoever. 

And Bucky didn't. 

He did something far worse. 

"You," he said, "don't you remember?" And just like this their banter was back on. 

"Oh, I remember," Sam said instantly. "I remember. Only how I recall it, it got you into a better mood." 

"You've got memory mixed up with wishful thinking," Buck suggested. 

"Says the guy who needs a million diaries to remember his life." It was a low blow from Sam, but Bucky didn't seem to mind. He didn't seem to mind a lot when it came to Sam. 

"Maybe I could use some refreshing then," Buck said, in a tone that Steve had never heard from him before. 

"Yeah?" Sam asked, somehow he sounded genuinely surprised now. Given Bucky's history, Sam wasn't the only one stunned by the revelation. Although, Steve couldn't find any delight in the shock. 

Not like Sam who walked past the bottom of the stairs with a big smile and a soft, happy expression, relief written over his face. He didn't notice Steve hovering at the top, he only had eyes for what Steve guessed was Bucky all across the room. 

Steve chose the next moment to make his way down, he didn't want to listen anymore, nor did he want Sam and Bucky disappearing into Sam's room. 

The argument had entirely slipped from his mind until he was down to the last step and his eyes fell onto the pile of shirts and boxers, lone sheets and a handful of pants in every single color Steve could list. A couple of striped socks were scattered on the floor around his bare feet, and Steve's mouth fell open just a little. He suddenly felt overwhelmed with emotions that he couldn't place. 

They were sorting their clothes, so Steve didn't have to wear his own. Or rather, the ones that made up the bigger part of his wardrobe upstairs. The ones he used to pick, the gray and white ones, beige and washed out pale blue. Sometimes a faded black. He didn't know how Nat had picked up on it so fast, but it shouldn't have surprised him. If anyone knew him, it was everyone sleeping under this roof. He recognized some of the pieces from Buck's place in Bucharest. Longsleeves in dark red and purple. A patterned sweater and a baseball jacket in orange and blue. Sam must have taken them without asking. 

"Don't worry," Sam said, coming over to Steve right away. "I was going to wash it all before bringing it up." He picked up one of the socks and threw them into a basket nearby. 

"I know," Steve said, and when Sam met his eyes, he said it again with more weight. "I know about-," he glanced over at Bucky. 

Sam drew in a tight breath and looked away. "It just-," he tried, but then stopped himself. Looked over at Bucky then too. He nodded, if to Buck or just to himself, Steve couldn't tell. But without saying another word, he headed out the door, leaving Steve with Bucky alone. 

Now that they had all the time in the world to talk, all the privacy they needed, Steve couldn't come up with a single thing to say. 

Part of Bucky was angry still, Steve knew his postures too well. His expressions. It radiated off him almost unbearably. 

"Why him?" Bucky asked then. And Steve knew he meant Eddie. He didn't mean it in a sexual way. He meant it in a way to ask why Steve would trust a stranger to comfort him over Bucky. "Because of what happened to you?" 

"Why not me?" Steve asked instead of answering. He couldn't face Bucky, so he turned to the pile of clothes once more. He did mean it in a sexual way. "It should have been me," he added, although he knew how unfair such a statement was to Sam. 

"Maybe," Bucky said, he stepped a little closer. "But it isn't." 

"Why?" Steve asked, gathering enough courage to face Bucky after all. He wanted to see his face when they talked like that. It was the right thing to do. But he needed to see him, too. To look at him. 

"Because it never happened," Buck just said, holding Steve's gaze. Then he shrugged. "I thought it might, but-," he faltered. "But we-," he started, cut himself off. "I thought it might, but it never did." 

Never in his life, in an entire century, had an answer as simple as this hurt so much. 

Bucky looked pained too. Maybe part of him hadn't just thought it would happen, but had wished for it as much as Steve. But they hadn't made it happen. It was as simple as that. 

"And then what?" Steve asked still, he didn't want to be impatient, agitated, enraged, but the more anger seeped from Bucky the more of those emotions rose within Steve. "Then Sam just happened? How? When?" 

"We were working on the arm," Buck admitted, he knew it was none of Steve's business, but he told him anyway. "We kissed." Another shrug. "That was all that happened that day." 

"And then you went to sleep in my bed," Steve said, tone bitter. "With me in it." 

"We used to do that a lot," Buck reminded him. "Before the war." He looked a little more insecure when he said it, as if he didn't know whether or not he could fully trust those memories. 

"It was different then," Steve just said. 

"Different from you sleeping with Eddie?" Bucky asked. He didn't realize how poorly he had phrased that sentence. 

"You lied to me all those weeks," Steve said, ignoring Buck's question altogether. 

"I didn't want to hurt you," Buck admitted. 

"Because you knew," Steve said, voice much louder than he had actually gone for. "Don't tell me you didn't. You knew what I felt for you when you kissed Sam out there." He pointed into the general direction of the shed that had become Sam's working space. "You knew that I liked you." 

"I like you too," Buck said, sounding too young for the way his body looked now. "I've always liked you, Steve. I've always loved you," he said, robbing Steve of all air using that word finally. Now of all times. "I was always in love with you," Buck added, to make things indefinitely worse. 

"And now?" Steve asked, heart heavy in his chest. He already knew the answer. 

But Bucky shook his head helplessly. Shrugged. Steve really needed him to stop doing that. He wanted to shake him instead. Demanding to be told what to do now. What it all meant. 

"Now I want to be with Sam," Buck said, tearing Steve's heart open. He knew. Steve knew, but it hurt all the same to hear it. Bucky wanted to be with Sam. 

Tears made their way into Steve's eyes despite how hard he tried not to cry. It hurt Buck to watch, but there was nothing he could do. 

"Steve," he tried nonetheless. But there was nothing he could say either.  "I'm still here for you. Want to be here for you. It's us, right?" he asked, tilting his head to find Steve's eyes. "It's always been you and me. It'll always be like that." 

Steve wanted to believe him. But it didn't feel like that at all. 

"I really wish you would talk to me," Bucky said. "About what happened. I don't like you avoiding me." 

"I wasn't," Steve lied. "I just needed space." He didn't know how long he was going to hold onto that line. It was getting old already and he was well aware of it. 

Bucky scoffed at the pathetic excuse. "Yeah, I saw what that means to you." 

"Why does it even bother you so much?" Steve asked, swallowing all his pain. "You don't even want me." 

"I want you to tell me what happened," Buck said. 

"I can't," Steve just said. Shook his head. "I don't know how. I don't know if I can live with you knowing. Live with you looking at me like-". 

"Like the way you look at me?" Buck asked. He was really trying to outdo Steve's lies with his brutal honesty. "You couldn't make that first step in a hundred years," Buck told him cruelly. "And you wouldn't have done it in another century. How long was I supposed to wait, Steve?" 

Maybe. Maybe he was right about Steve being too scared to take that first step after everything that had happened to them. After everything that had happened to Bucky. But that didn't mean this whole thing was his fault. 

"And you?" Steve asked in anger. "Why didn't you just kiss me if it was that easy?" 

"Because you were always busy fucking two generations of the Carter family," Bucky said. He was obviously determined to rip Steve to pieces today. 

"I've never fucked anyone while you were fucking yourself through all of Brooklyn, and apparently, just last night, fucked my goddamn best friend," Steve shot back. 

" _I'm_ your best friend," Bucky snapped without even a millisecond of hesitation. 

Steve stared at him bewildered, dizzy and angry. They were the biggest mess. And Steve couldn't help but smile gently at the thought of it. He had the softest spot for just how stupid they were. Perfectly enhanced his ass. They were perfectly enhanced idiots and that was all. 

"You are," Steve agreed then, heart tender and nostalgic. Not knowing where it would take them. "You are my best friend." 

 


	12. Chapter 12

"You're coming out to punch me?" Sam asked later, sitting on the edge of the porch as Steve stepped out. They weren't too far from the spot where Steve had discovered Sam and Buck all those nights ago. More self-control than he'd anticipated was necessary for Steve not to glance over. Stare and remember. Relive those same feelings, disbelief and shock. And betrayal above all. 

Steve shook his head. Stepping closer, bare feet almost silent on the dusty wood. 

Sam gave him a doubtful smile, but he seemed relieved enough that Steve came out in the first place. "What if I deserve it?" he asked. 

"You don't," Steve told him. It was reflex, of course, more than conviction. "It wasn't just you," he went on, not meaning to make things worse though. Trying to articulate his more nuanced thoughts. "It was what Buck wanted. What he wants. What I couldn't do." 

"He's a good guy," Sam said, looking up at Steve standing next to him. Carefully testing the waters. "God knows he drives me mad, but I do like him. A lot." 

"You better," Steve warned, sat down next to Sam. The afternoon sun was out bright and the heat thickened the air. Steve looked down to his foot, wondering if it'll ever look the same as before. It had started to heal by now, but it was healing all wrong. 

There was a beat of silence, a soft breeze grazing over the porch, specks of sand finding their way onto Steve's toes. A strange yearning. Riis Park Beach in the summer of 1938. Bucky holding Steve's hand. Leading him into the cold waves. Holding him afloat with a hand under Steve's back. The other on the back of his knee. Wet hair and cocky grin. The blinding sunlight from above. Steve didn't even want to close his eyes. Wanted to look at Bucky forever. 

"I wanted to tell you," Sam said quietly, forcing Steve back into the present. "Tried a couple of times. Couldn't get a word out. And then you were gone. Almost getting yourself killed without another word." 

"I've called," Steve tried, but it was a weak argument and even he knew it. "Guess I haven't made the best choices either lately." 

"We'd do it again. You realize that, right?" Sam asked. "We never asked to have our old lives back. We'd never ask you to do this just to get us off the hook." 

Steve knew, but he didn't like to hear it. He knew that a loyalty like this got people killed. Got the people closest to him hurt over and over again. 

Before he got a chance to voice any of that, to tell Sam that he couldn't do it anymore, respect what they'd give up for him and live with that knowledge at the same time, Bucky appeared in the doorway and slowly made his way towards them. 

Steve scooted over to make space for Buck in the middle. He'd have to get used to it one way or the other. Might as well start now. He didn't think Bucky noticed how he placed himself just a little closer to Sam, but Steve did. Breathed into the pain. 

He couldn't tell anymore if it was the jealousy eating its way through his stomach or the effects of the hormones again, causing the echoing cramps. 

"They gave me some kind of drug," Steve started then, not knowing how to do this, but knowing he had to start somewhere. Anywhere was a good enough start. "A lot of drugs, I think. They made me really weak." He didn't feel like his words did justice to his truth, didn't know if any ever could. Bucky watched him from the side. Listening to every single word. Listening to everything in between Steve's words. It made him want to go on despite the shame and the fear. Whatever his words couldn't say, Buck would take from his silences. Like he had done those past days. Knowing what had happened without knowing what had happened. 

"I couldn't do anything about it," Steve said slowly. His voice was frail, but it didn't break. "They hit us every chance they got. And all they wanted from us was some DNA. In the sperm cells. In the egg cells. Whatever Venom's cells are. Were." 

The heavy part was yet to come. Steve swallowed, wondering about the change it was going to bring onto them. Once the truth was spoken out loud, he could never take it back. It would become him. 

No one said a word for a bit. 

"They made me do it a couple of times," Steve admitted, fingers grazing through the thin layer of sand beside him. There was nowhere to look. "One time it was one of the guards. I thought he'd do worse than just use his hands on me." Although he hadn't said that much, Steve felt a wave of relief coming over him. For breaking the silence. It didn't matter now how Buck would look at him in the future. 

"He said some things," Steve started again. "Humiliating things. But it wasn't just what he said. It was how they used our bodies. How they touched them, manipulated them, hurt them. As if they were just things to take from. That was the most humiliating thing of all." 

He felt out of place complaining, here with Bucky right next to him. Bucky who knew far worse than that. But Bucky listened without offense. And Sam listened without judgement. 

"We killed a lot of people on our way out," Steve confessed. Not that he had to fear repercussions here. They had rarely taken prisoners on missions. The Winter Soldier had never. And there was always collateral damage. "We killed all of them. Venom did. But Venom was with me. It was the both of us." He let himself breathe for a short moment, but he didn't want to settle back into more silences. "But I killed whatever they made from us. I did it." He didn't know why he feared this more than what they did to the guards. Why he feared talking about it more. 

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, eyebrows drawn together. "What they made from you?" 

"They've fertilized Carol's eggs," Steve said, heart beating heavy in his chest. "With my sperm. And Venom's offsprings." 

Sam's expression didn't change. He didn't shift, didn't nod. He didn't acknowledge the explanation. 

"And I destroyed them," Steve said again. Quietly, but determined. "They were ours, but I didn't want them. We,-" he corrected himself, "we didn't want them." 

"Steve-," Bucky tried, but then he fell silent. He put his hand on Steve's knee. Pulled it back. It wasn't the right place to touch. 

"Something's still wrong," Steve said. Just in case. Just in case he wasn't getting better but worse. "I still feel messed up. From the drugs. From all the meds they gave me. I'm not sure it'll ever heal." He felt it now, pulsing pressure low in his core, and with the way he was sat here, hunched forward and with his knees pulled close, the ache only increased with the passing time. 

"Steve, we can have you checked over," Sam said right away. "Fury's gotta have some specialist on speed dial. The guy faked his death before while someone stitched him up in secret." 

But the thought alone brought Steve at the verge of another breakdown, the thought of surrendering to some strangers from _medical school_ calling themselves experts on his body again. 

He shook his head, but couldn't put his reasons into words. The whole thing must have been painfully familiar to Bucky, not the details but the theme. He slung his arm around Steve's shoulders, a better spot for contact, and pulled him closer to his side. Pulling Steve closer than Sam. Holding him closer than Sam. And Steve buried his face in his shoulder, let Bucky's body comfort him for the first time since their return. 

He wanted it all now, everything that Steve hadn't allowed himself, that he had been too proud to take when offered. Close wasn't close enough anymore, and the more he pressed into Buck's side, the more Bucky leaned into Sam, the three of them a bunch of squishy dominos. No more super soldiers, no more heroes. Only men in pain. From wounds, from secrets, from love. Steve took Buck's hand into his own, laced their fingers. He wanted it now, just once, wanted to know what it felt like. 

Bucky didn't pull away and Sam reached for Steve all the way around Buck's shoulders, offering some touch of his own. Bucky took the opportunity to nestle even closer into Sam's side, the back of his head resting on his chest. 

When Sam's lips grazed over Buck's hair, an accident maybe, barely even a fleeting kiss atop his head, Steve closed his eyes. And it pained him to say it then, caused shame to rise from his stomach, that he wished Sam away in that moment. Sam, his friend. The one who had helped save Bucky and bring him home to Steve. The one that had just admitted he would give his freedom, his life, for Steve over and over again. The one that Steve loved, every second of every other day than this one. In every moment, but not here, not now. Now he wished him away, so he could, finally, after a century, take that first step. And convince Buck that it should have always, always, been him. 

He was blindsided by his own jealousy. It ran through him hotter than blood. 

 

The van pulled up a while later when Steve's muscles were stiff already but he was still nursing a broken soul with Bucky's touch. Unable to let go. The gaping hole in his heart aching for more. Just a little longer. Holding onto Buck's hand just a little longer. Steve blinked his eyes open only to acknowledge to parking car as theirs, but otherwise didn't move. Neither did Bucky nor Sam. 

It was only when the back seat door opened and Eddie almost fell out, that Steve jolted upright, his heart missing a beat before heading straight into panic mode. He could only see Eddie's pained face, the way he'd crossed his arms over his stomach. Protectively. Pain-stricken. 

It took a couple of seconds, a couple of seconds that felt like an eternity, filled with fear and terror, a couple of seconds before Steve realized that Eddie was laughing. 

Laughing so hard he had to hold his hurting belly, laughing so hard he couldn't keep his face straight. Laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes and couldn't hold his body upright as he lurched away from the car, knees wobbly and shoulders shaking with juvenile glee. 

Although, Steve was sure he had spotted Carol in the passenger seat, next to Nat behind the wheel, she climbed out from Eddie's side, chasing after him immediately. Tormenting him with featherlight touches, photon sparks jerking through Eddie's and Venom's bonded body, tickling, teasing pain from playful touches. 

It was the rush of adrenaline, the drop of the empty alarm and the useless cold sweat, that made Steve laugh at the sight in return. Steve's body falling from the heights of despair into intoxicating relief. Intoxicating joy. Watching Eddie twisting his body at every turn, sidestepping and swerving Carol as he ran from the electricity beneath her glowing fingers. Venom rescuing him every now and then when Eddie pulled an especially risky move, keeping Eddie from toppling over. They rose dust and dirt in their chase, dry sands like a red fog dispersed by soft winds, that clung to their clothes, their skin, the strands of hair sticking to Carol's rosy cheeks. 

Barefoot and with childish recklessness, Steve ran out towards them. Carol spotted him first, grinning at him with fiery raised fingers, daring him to come for his own tiny stinging shocks. Eddie welcomed the distraction by letting his body drop to the ground, butt first into the sand, finally able to catch his breath. He was still laughing when Steve circled him for leverage, trying to avoid Carol's tiny touches that burned for just that split second before making him laugh with the buzz of the chase. 

Every now and then he caught a glimpse of the porch, almost distant now, and of Bucky smiling. Sam and Nat that cheered Carol on, yelling conflicting advice and predictions of Steve's path that were never quite on point. 

Steve was breathless when they made their way back to the house, sides stinging with sore lungs and sore muscles, from running, from laughing, from those stupid uncontrollable shrieks of his adrenaline soaked body. He felt revived. Something had been shaken off from within. 

He could only imagine what this meant for Venom, all the delicious neurotransmitters and hormones released in Eddie's body. Excitement. The rush of euphoria. Momentary happiness. 

It was almost as if Steve could taste them too, soak it all up and drench himself in the feeling. He wanted it to last forever. 

It lasted for the afternoon, which was more than he could have ever hoped for. They cooked, they hung the clothes fresh out of the washer, they played a dozen shitty rounds of cards. Steve didn't remember when things had last been this normal. If ever in his life. 

And although Steve noticed all of the touches, -- Sam's hand in the nape of Buck's neck, the back of Buck's finger brushing along Sam's wrist, the way Sam's face brightened and the way he bumped his shoulder against Buck's when his laugh filled the room over a lost game of Go Fish--, Steve didn't dwell on it. Didn't dwell on the thought, still, that it should be him. 

The laughter quieted, exhaustion taking a hold of each of them at last. And when they separated slowly later that evening, everyone scattered in different rooms, Steve gently knocked on Carol's door, not wanting to startle or disturb her. He expected to be called in, but then the door opened and Carol stood right in front of him. 

"Hey," she said, letting him in immediately. "You okay?" she asked as he stepped in carefully. 

The room wasn't any different from when Nat slept here. The bed was made and the curtains were closed. The lamp in one of the corners was lit, the mirror next to it reflecting the light. A couple of Nat's clothes were stacked on top of the dresser for Carol to choose from and Fury's card laid discarded next to them, crumbled by the corner. 

The sight made Steve jump right around on his heels, somewhat panicked, somewhat ashamed, and he leaned past the door frame, holding onto it with a hand, with his face reddened. 

"Eddie?" Steve called as Carol came to stand next to him, curious what got him so worked up. The doorframe was just wide enough for both of them to squeeze in. 

"What's up?" Eddie asked, hopping down the stairs with Nat in tow, casual look on his face. 

Steve needed a moment to sort it though. If this, whatever this was, was going to be a thing now, he had more to get used to than seeing Sam and Buck avoiding each other less and less while Steve was around. 

"Do you have enough clothes?" he asked, genuinely worried that everyone had just forgotten about Eddie. Suddenly reminded that they've come here with nothing. Absolutely nothing. Worried that it had slipped his mind completely. He really was the worst host ever. 

It wasn't even that Steve hadn't noticed how Eddie was wearing one shirt and one shirt only, Venom. But he had guessed it was for comfort. Much like Steve who refused to wear anything pale. It hadn't occurred to him once that it was out of necessity rather than preference. 

But Eddie laughed and shook his head in a sweet manner. As if he couldn't quite believe Steve would worry about that. And worry about that in a random moment like this. 

"You really think that low of us?" Sam yelled from his room, but appeared just a second later. Probably prepared for any useless argument-slash-bickering that could ensue. The one failsafe way to summon him at any given time. 

"Just making sure," Steve asked and when Eddie nodded at him in assurance, he ushered Carol back into the bedroom and closed the door behind them. 

"Sorry about that," he said, quieter and almost nervous now. 

"Are you okay?" she asked. Her expression was laced with concern, but there was something else beneath it. Something he'd seen in Sam before. In Bucky. Something he knew from the reflection of his own face. When he couldn't give what was expected of him. Not entirely. Not like that. With Sharon behind him. Or Peggy haunting him in rare memories. The fear of being found out. 

"I-," he tried, not knowing what to do with the rising confusion. "I was wondering if you could help me out again?" Steve asked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "With the hands, you know?" he clarified, and placed his own over his stomach. 

"Sure, yeah," she told him, smiled at him, reassuring but with her own relief as well. 

She stepped closer, coming from his side this time and put one palm beneath Steve's own and the other on the small of his back. 

Steve didn't know the technicalities of how her touch could spark a shock at the contact at times, and at others be this warm and welcoming, warmth spreading through his body weightless but all encompassing, reaching every last cell of every smallest muscle. 

"You're leaving aren't you?" he asked then, though it wasn't fair to take it from her like that. 

She glanced up at him, but looked back at her hand almost immediately. Steve tried to steady himself on his feet. There was always a moment of unease when the muscles at the core of his torso loosened, when he feared he'd lose control or tumble over. He swayed, wished for something to lean against, but they were standing right in the middle of the room. Carol didn't say anything for that long moment. She breathed calmly and held Steve upright with just a fraction of strength. 

"There's someone in Louisiana I have to see," she said quietly. "Well, two someones actually." 

"For Fury?" Steve asked. He couldn't stop his worries from seeping into his voice. 

She huffed at that, but it was barely audible. "No," she assured him. There was more in that 'no' that she didn't want to say. That it wasn't Steve's business anyway. That she wouldn't just follow orders no matter who they came from. That he could shove his worries up his ass. At least if they came from a place of rivalry. A place of Steve's own issues with Fury. The ones she didn't want to get involved in. 

"When?" Steve asked. He wanted her to know that he was aware he had no say in it anyway. He didn't know how to tell her. He knew that she was beyond his hold. Beyond his reach and beyond his command. Beyond his advice. He only wanted her friendship anyway. He wanted to be worthy of it. 

Slowly, he moved his hand over hers and she let him lift it, guide her away from his skin, just an inch into the air. For a second, he was sure, she assumed it was because he wanted her to stop touching him now. Stop being close when she was going to leave anyway. But he had moved her off just enough for him to pull the seam of his shirt up to his bellybutton. Then he carefully let go of her hand. It was her choice to make. 

He felt her the tips of her fingers on his bare skin first, grazing over the hairs below his navel. Then her palm was back on him, warm, steady and affectionate. He hadn't really allowed anyone to touch the naked skin under his clothes since their escape. 

Anyone except Venom. 

But he trusted her now. Trusted her even when she nudged the waistband of his pants lower so she could fit her splayed fingers below his navel. And he trusted her when she pulled her hand away from his back, only to move it under the fabric too. He closed his eyes to remember what it felt to be touched like this. To trust someone to touch him like this. Not remember but rediscover. And allow it, fully, to happen. 

"In a couple of days," she told him, voice soft, merely a whisper. "Fury said the warrants will be cleared by the end of the week. We have to call to confirm." 

Relief washed over Steve. It was almost over. With his eyes still closed, he focused on the floor beneath his feet and his stance upon it. Strong and firm. He wouldn't melt in her hands, although it felt like it. 

"Does Eddie know?" Steve asked, thoughts taking him where they wanted to. "About you leaving?" 

He couldn't tell how exactly, but he knew when she shook her head. Maybe it was the air between them that was stirred by her moving hair. Maybe it was the way her breath grazed over his arm, from one side to the other as she did. Maybe it was his imagination. But he knew the answer was no, and Carol stayed quiet. 

"How did you two-," Steve started, but he didn't even know how to finish the question. He didn't even know what he wanted to know exactly. What he had been wondering about for so long. "You're so close," he said then. "Despite everything. Despite Venom. You were close already when I was put in that cell with you." 

"How's that possible?" she offered, phrasing a question for him. Steve nodded. "I don't know," she admitted. "He can barely touch me without hurting Venom. I can barely touch him without hurting the symbiote either. Makes it easier to trust. Makes it easier to bond in different ways," she told him, tone filled with that cheesy fondness that had once Steve annoyed so much. Now he was jealous of it. "Plus, he's Eddie, so he's got that going for him." 

Steve laughed at that, blinking his eyes open to look at her. She was right about that. 

"You take care of yourself, okay?" He wanted her to give him that promise. "And don't be a stranger, alright?" 

She smiled at him, but he could see that it was more difficult now. She didn't seem to be one for goodbyes. They weighed heavy on her, and her expression showed. "I'm not leaving, yet," she said, eyes glistering just that tiny bit. 

"I know," Steve said gently. "I just wanted you to know." To know that he cared. 

"Feel any better?" Carol asked then. She didn't want to linger on sadder topics. 

Steve nodded, but she kept her hands on him. He wouldn't want her to take them away anyway. "Anything I can do for you in return?" he wondered. 

"Look after him for me?" she asked. Rubbing Steve's back a little. It was clear they had to break apart soon enough. "Until I get back?" 

"He'll look after me, but I can try," Steve told her. Placed his hand over hers once more. Wanted to keep them there forever. 

"Then do me a favor and let him?" Her eyes were focused on him and she smirked in the distinct way she always did. He would miss it painfully. 

"As long as he wants to," he told her, but his voice was alien even to him. Burdened by the weight of the future. 

"It's not goodbye yet, Steve," she reminded him. 

"I know," he assured her, but it was a lie. The opposite felt true. 

She didn't just let go of him entirely at once, she let her hands linger and let her fingertips trace the barely there curve of his stomach. It almost felt wrong to let his shirt drop back down, he didn't want it to wipe off her touch. 

"You don't have to be in pain," she said, but teased him with another stinging photon jab against his arm. "You can come to me anytime." 

Only for as long as you're here, Steve thought, but he knew better than to tell her. There was no guilt in her leaving, wanting to be with her own family. Whoever they may be. 

 

He left her door ajar when he headed to the bathroom, figuring she was going to come out to seek out Eddie or it would go the other way. It wasn't his place to stay with them though. Not for that conversation. 

Instead, he headed back to his own room, hoping Carol's magic hands would give him at least half a night of undisturbed sleep. 

Nat was already in bed, sheet wrapped around half her body. She smiled at him. Like she always smiled at him these days. 

"You look happy," he said, tempted to brush a loose strand of hair off her forehead. 

"What about you?" Nat asked. "You looked happy before." She looked him over again. "Now, I can't tell anymore." 

"I'm happy you're here," he just said, hoped she wouldn't press him about his feelings. She didn't, of course. She knew he'd come talk to her if he needed to. He was sorting through his drawer, looking for something brighter to sleep in, when the thought made him look up. "Buck did ask you to babysit me, didn't he?" Steve asked, busying his hands with flattening a particularly ugly neon green shirt. He mirrored her smile from earlier, wanted her to know that he was fine either way. "When we'd just arrived and I threw him out," he clarified. 

She held his gaze with a rare look of sheepish kindness, one that made her look impossibly young, then nodded. Of course, he did. "Wouldn't have left you alone, even if he hadn't," she said gently, but he already knew that. "You want me to go?" she asked, just a moment later. 

He shook his head. "Nat, I-," he started, didn't really know how to put it all into words. "Thank you," was what he settled for then. It wasn't enough, ever, but it was the best he could do now. 

 

Sleep came easy that night, almost naturally again and took him away from it all. Almost like before. The pain in his bladder and the discomfort between his legs only wove itself into his dreams when midnight had long passed, the ghost of earring-guy's alleviating grip on his testicles, patronizing and humiliating at once. And soon enough, Steve thrashed himself awake, trying to move away from the touch. 

Nat jerked awake from his violent movements, and he apologized still when he had one feet out the door, heading to the bathroom for some relief. 

This time when he came down, Eddie was asleep, exhaustion had taken over his body too. 

Steve moved with extra care, but every step felt too heavy and he flinched over the dull cracking sound of his messed up toes. The house lay too quiet. 

Part of him wasn't even angry when he didn't have to flush, body refusing to release one single drop. That way, at least, he wouldn't wake anyone else. 

He was halfway through the living room, when, out of the corner of his eye, he caught the pair of white eyes appear in the darkness. 

"Steve," Venom hissed into the silence, making Steve stop dead in his tracks. 

"What?" he whispered back, stepping closer, careful not to kick anything over accidentally. 

"We have questions," Venom just stated, unaware that he chose the very worst time for his curiosity. 

"About what?" Steve asked nonetheless. The distraction was welcomed and the company even more so. 

"About your body," Venom said with what would have been amusing naivety if it didn't make Steve blush. 

"Fucking fantastic," he breathed, but moved over and sat down at the foot of the couch anyway. "Go ahead," Steve told him, thinking there'd be a fifty-fifty chance he was going to regret it. 

"You didn't like being touched by those people," Venom said, his head coming just a little closer to Steve, but staying low and near Eddie's body. "Eddie didn't like being touched by those people. 

"The people from that base?" Steve asked, but he knew already. 

"Yes," Venom said, tongue slithering out between his teeth on the 's'. "You didn't like being touched by them." 

"No, we didn't," Steve confirmed for him. "Because it was wrong." 

"It made Eddie feel good," Venom started, but Steve was up on his knees and in the symbiote's face before it had the chance to get another word out. 

"No, it didn't," Steve hissed with poisonous rage. He tried his best to control himself. No moment would be worse for Eddie to wake. Lucky for Steve, he seemed to be completely out of it for now. "It didn't make Eddie feel good. It made us hurt. And scared. And sick to our fucking stomachs." 

Venom ducked away from Steve's anger, seeking shelter with his host's body. He pulled so far back, he was merely a distorted face on Eddie's back. 

"I'm sorry," Steve apologized in a whisper. "I'm sorry, but this is a sensitive issue." He leaned back to give Venom some space. "It's very complicated. It's very easy actually," he added, but it was only true for one side. "It's very easy, but it's very complicated too. The emotions and the body and all that." 

Slowly, Venom made its way back out of Eddie's body. Steve wondered what the sensation would feel like, never having experienced it with Venom. Whenever he had left Steve's body then to leave him entirely. Never to return really. 

"Eddie won't explain," Venom told him carefully and Steve began to understand. Felt the weight of his outburst now. "He says he doesn't want me to ask. He doesn't want to think about it anymore," the symbiote added. Of course Eddie was stubborn like that. 

So Steve settled back with his butt on the floor, grabbed himself a pillow for his back and took a deep breath. Tried to take some pressure of his bladder by stretching his legs. "Eddie ever gave you the basics on consent, buddy?" he asked, pinching his nose, trying to get his brain up and going while the darkness wanted to lull him back into sleep. 

"Of course," Venom insisted. "This is our body, but there are things that Eddie needs to agree to before we do them." 

"Right," Steve said and let himself breathe for a second. It was a good start. He could do this. 

He began telling Venom about consent once more. Just to be sure. And he told him about physical reactions and how they were impossible to control. Told him about how things could feel good physically, but scare the life out of them emotionally. Torment them emotionally. How the detachment of the physical and the emotional was used against them specifically. How being unable to control the physical was a torture of its own. How shame was a torture of its own.  

And how that was why Eddie needed time, still, to process this. If Venom was lucky he'd come around soon. If Eddie was lucky. If Steve was. 

But they couldn't force him to. 

"Eddie feels ashamed," Venom stated after Steve had been silent for a while. 

"He's ashamed," Steve echoed quietly. "He's hurt and confused." 

"And you?" the symbiote asked. 

"I am too," Steve admitted. 

"There's nothing wrong with your body, Steve," Venom said and Steve looked up at him, seeking his eyes out in the darkness. For a second, he didn't know what to do with the information, but then something clicked. 

"The hormones," he stumbled over his thoughts. "The effects of the hormones?" he asked. 

"There were none when we were together," the symbiote said patiently. And Steve wondered if he was the messiest human to have ever bonded with Venom. Probably not, but he sure felt like this at the moment. 

It was a relief to hear it, but Steve knew what it meant it return. If his pain was psychosomatic, he couldn't rely on the serum to fix it. He wouldn't just recover and move past it. It was a relief but it was also disillusioning. 

"You should stay with us," Venom said. He and Eddie weren't so different when it came to just throwing things out there. "Eddie wants you around. I know it." 

"I would kind of need to hear it from the man himself, buddy. Explicit consent, remember?" Steve reminded him. 

Venom grinned, white teeth shimmering in the dark and only a second later Eddie's sleeping body started coming to life. Soft breaths changing their rhythm, fingers sliding over the pillow case, bottom lip twitching ever so slightly. 

"Don't worry," Venom said, his voice barely a whisper now. "He won't even know that we woke him up." 

Steve's eyes went wide and he rose in his panic, not knowing what it'd look like for Eddie to find him sitting like that by the sofa. He managed to take one step into the room, before Eddie stirred for real, blinking awake from a hazy dream. 

"Oh, hey," he said, stretching out his arms above his head. He didn't seem fazed by finding Steve wandering the house at night. Again. "Still trouble sleeping?" he asked. His voice hoarse but tender. 

"Do you want me to sleep here?" Steve blurted, but as soon as the words had fallen out, he could see Venom grinning anew, his head hiding bashfully yet self-congratulatory behind Eddie's hip bone. 

Steve's heart missed a beat and Eddie missed a breath, but then his arm was out like the night before, waiting for Steve to huddle up close. 

"Of course." 

 


	13. Chapter 13

In the morning, Eddie's body was still heavenly sleep warm and Steve curled in further against him. His senses were still all over the place, eyes tired and burning as he blinked through them. 

The house was still quiet and although there was a hint of dawn on the sky, it wasn't yet enough to illuminate the room around him. 

Being awake just wasn't worth it yet, not with the wall of Eddie's bare chest in front of Steve, keeping him safe from the world. His frame melted into Eddie's arms as his heart grew three sizes with every breath. 

There was still time. There was still time to drift between day and night, between dream and reality, between yesterday and tomorrow. 

One of his legs was pressed between Eddie's, skin tingling with how little blood was able to pass through his veins. Steve didn't care. He didn't care about any of it. He registered the pressure between his thighs as nothing more than the shadow of the familiar ache again, bladder acting up to ruin his morning. But he didn't want to get up, didn't want to move at all. 

He didn't want to get up. 

But not every part of his body shared the sentiment. The tender pressure between his legs wasn't his phantom pain, not even close. It was his cock straining, filled out and heavy, against his stomach. 

Not just his stomach. 

His stomach and Eddie's hips. 

Steve's eyes tore open at the realization and in his usual surge of panic he looked down at his body, and then up at Eddie in sheer shock, eyes wide from helplessness and shame. He only had a split second though, to register that Eddie was awake, that he was looking back at him, before his face was squashed between two strong hands and he was being kissed with a pair of soft lips. 

Steve tensed up involuntarily, not quite able to grasp yet, what was happening. But when he felt Eddie moving back just a little, away from him, Steve followed his body on instinct. He didn't want to stop even though he didn't understand. 

He wanted to keep going. Needed to. 

It was all the permission Eddie needed, to keep his lips where they were, parting Steve's as he pulled him closer. He loosened his hands on Steve's cheeks, slipped one to the back of Steve's neck and let the other trace the curve of his deaf ear. 

Steve kissed Eddie back in a way he hadn't kissed anyone in his life. Not Lorraine, not Sharon, not Nat. Not even Peggy. He kissed Eddie back in a way he had saved for Buck. 

Like he had nothing to lose. 

And what did he have to lose? 

After losing Bucky. After almost dying on that table. At the only pair of gentle hands in that godforsaken place. After he hadn't been worthy of mercy after all. 

Steve pressed his body so firmly against Eddie, he almost rolled him over onto his back. He was full of rage. Full of sadness. He wanted to think of nothing else but Eddie. He wanted to feel nothing else but Eddie. Everywhere. 

"It's okay," Eddie breathed between Steve's kisses, rushed and rough. "It's okay," he said over and over again. "It's okay." 

But it wasn't. And Steve felt himself break apart, erection long forgotten, replaced by painful memories and never-ending yearning. 

"It's okay," Eddie reminded him, lips brushing over Steve's after every single word. "It's okay," he said again. "You're with me," he assured Steve. "Your with us." 

Steve tried to ease off him, ashamed for his sudden outburst. 

"It's okay," Eddie whispered, words sacred between them. It didn't matter that it was the tenth time, the twentieth time or the hundredth time that he said it. Steve needed to hear it. Heard it every time as if he was never told before. 

Eddie kissed his lips, the corner of his mouth and his cheek. "It's okay," barely audible but soothing on Steve's skin. "It's okay." 

Steve moved himself flush against Eddie's chest, wishing for Venom to pull him in. 

With eyes closed, shut tight to keep it all out, his lips fell onto Eddie's on repeat. Fearful kisses slowly turning into hesitant confidence. Steve's tongue tasting Eddie's over and over again. His hand roaming over Eddie's naked skin. From his shoulder blade to his hip bone. From his lower rib cage to the small of his back. 

It was starting to be okay. 

They lay like that for a while, a long while, exchanging touches, kisses, satisfied looks with sleepy eyes. 

It was the first time since their escape that Steve felt it entirely. 

Grateful that he didn't die. 

That he lived. 

Serum or no serum. Superhuman or just that regular guy from Brooklyn with a broken body. Bucky or no Bucky. 

"Okay," Steve said. Quietly. Looking up hesitantly. "It's okay," he said again, trying out those words himself. It was just for Eddie. 

For Eddie who nodded and kissed his forehead. 

He closed his eyes again, convinced that time couldn't even reach him here. That he could have this moment for as long as he wanted. Just him and Eddie away from it all. 

He didn't know how long it was exactly until they were disturbed. 

Until Carol was stood in front of the couch in her pajamas still. Maybe no time had passed at all. Maybe it had already been forever. 

"This looks nice," she said, eyes on Eddie as Steve turned for a quick glance. Eddie's fingers found the back of Steve's neck again, nails grazing gently over the skin. He wouldn't let him go. Wouldn't let him flee in panic again. 

"There's room for one more", Eddie told her, his voice silky smooth as if none of this was out of the ordinary. He looked down at Steve by his side, wordlessly checking in if he was okay with it. 

Steve nodded. 

There was room for one more. 

Of course there was room for one more. 

It was with care and precision that Carol settled her body behind Steve's, arm coming up to wrap around his waist immediately. She slipped her hand underneath Steve's shirt. Either assuming Steve had pain that needed easing or so she wouldn't accidentally brush Eddie's naked stomach. She hid the other under the fabric over Steve's bicep, both hands covered. A shiver ran down Steve's back, raising the hairs on his arm. His skin was still so sensitive, from the early hour, the drowsy sleep. From Eddie's kisses. And Carol's touches almost brought him to the verge of tears. 

It wasn't just since she had first warmed his aching stomach that Steve had fallen in love with her touch, it had been long before. It was back in that terrifying cell when she had first allowed him to draw her into a hug. When they had first comforted each other through the pain and the violence. It was when she had been sitting against his chest, chasing away the memories of the assault. It had been then even that she had started to heal him. The same way she still did in that moment. 

Steve didn't know if Venom was hiding from Carol or if he was just wrapped around Eddie some place hidden from Steve's sight. He couldn't spot any traces of the symbiote though. Maybe it was asleep. Maybe it had been asleep the entire time. Steve couldn't remember if he'd seen traces of him this morning. 

All that he remembered, though he couldn't be sure, was how he could have sworn that, at some point during one of the kisses, there had been more than just that one additional tongue in his mouth. Maybe it was his mind playing tricks. 

He closed his eyes again, let himself be wrapped in Carol's embrace. Eddie's arms were tangled up in his own between their chests. Two arms. Flesh and bones. Steve couldn't help but notice. 

He didn't think he ever would stop. 

He might just have made his peace with it. 

Letting that realization settle, he placed a deliberate kiss on Eddie's forearm, his lips grazing over the thin hairs. 

It was okay.

 

 

Steve made his way down to Eddie on the couch in the middle of the night two times more. By the third, he found Eddie and Carol in her room, still up, still talking, and they had just slept there. The three of them, with Steve tucked in the middle. 

From that night on, he didn't even bother going upstairs again. His place was somewhere else now. In bed, safe and sound, with Eddie and Carol at his sides no matter what. No matter how often Steve needed to get up at night. No matter how often Eddie jolted upright when he had accidentally brushed Carol's foot instead of Steve's. No matter the nightmares. Or sleeplessness. He belonged there no matter what. 

Steve didn't know when exactly Nat had decided to move all his clothes down into her dresser and bring her own up into Steve's old room. One day, they were all just there. All the shirts that Sam had picked and washed for him. All those stupid striped socks and patterned boxers. 

She had shrugged when Steve had hesitantly looked at her. Questioning. She had shrugged and squeezed his hand. 

And he hadn't wanted to object. He didn't want his old room back. Ever. He didn't want to be where he'd slept next to Buck. Where he'd still loved him every night. Quietly and in his own thoughts. 

When the warrants cleared, Steve worried himself into panic again, scared that Carol would leave right away. 

But she didn't. 

None of them did. Not Nat. Not Sam and Bucky. The day Steve had asked Carol when, she had said in a couple of days. And when he asked her again a couple of days later, she said by the end of the week. 

By Monday she was still there, waking Eddie with stinging kisses all over his face. And then started doing the same to Steve. But her kisses didn't hurt and he was already awake. And although her lips had been on the tip of his nose in one moment, they were on his lips in the next. He kissed her back with a racing heart, wanting to taste her too. This time it was Eddie's hard cock against Steve's hips as he watched them. 

But Steve wasn't brave enough yet to mention it. 

From that day on, touching himself didn't feel as horrible anymore. Not when he had to pee, not when he stood under the shower, washing the day's heat and sweat off his body. It was halfway moving towards something good. Toward something nice. 

Maybe he wasn't there yet, but he could see it happening sometime in the future. Surpassing okay. Surpassing it being okay into something he might even wanted to share. With Eddie. With Carol. 

At first touching himself didn't have anything to do with sex. It had to do with allowing his body to trust his touch again. Allowing all of himself. Allowing himself to move on from the betrayal. 

 _The safest hands are still our own_ , he reminded himself. He had once believed it. He still did. He still believed it somewhere deep down, buried under the abuse. 

He would fight to bring those words back to life. 

He fought through the shaking hands, He fought it with tender touches and unrelenting assurance. He fought the resurfacing sickness and the traumatic pain in his testicles. He fought it through earring-guy's voice at every sign of arousal. _They_ _said this could happen_ , it said. _Need a hand, Cap?_

"No," Steve whispered into the shower stream, shook his head. But he threw up, the second he placed his hand further down between his legs. 

That night the pain got so bad that Eddie contemplated giving him Venom, no matter how often the symbiote assured him that there was nothing wrong with him physically. 

Steve cried, feeling everything he had gained slip from his hands. 

It was what Steve wanted when Carol put her hand on him reluctantly. "You know there's a reason your testicles are outside your body, right?" she had asked carefully. "What if the heat is going to make you worse?" 

He shook his head. He didn't care. 

"Please," he said. He was ashamed, but he was hurting more. 

She slid her fingers down his pants and to Steve's surprise, Eddie covered her hand with his own above the fabric. It couldn't have been entirely painless for him. Not with the extra energy she had to produce. 

But he didn't flinch and he didn't move away. 

 

The next morning he borrowed the phone from Nat and called Sharon. His hands were shaking, but he knew it was the right thing to do. 

"It's me," he said, a little too quiet for a phone call. 

"I see you haven't lost my number yet," she said the moment she recognized his voice. 

"I'm sorry," he said. About how it all went down. "You got hurt because of me." 

"I got hurt because of me." She didn't want his apologies. "Those were my choices, Steve." 

"Fury's choices," he argued. Fury had his way to get into people's heads. "You wanted to protect me. He didn't like that." 

"Well, I don't work for him anymore," she insisted. Steve didn't believe her. 

"Good," he said, still. Maybe he could give her some peace by pretending. 

"Why'd you call, Steve?" she asked. "To make sure I'm alive?" 

"I should have listened to you," he said, his voice unrecognizable to himself. 

"You wouldn't be you, if you did," she said, knowing him too well for his liking. 

"What if I'll never be myself again? After all of this?" he wondered, knowing that it was unfair to put it on her. 

"You called me to apologize for something I did," she reminded him. "You already are." 

He didn't want to question how she could be sure of it, but the doubts were there nonetheless. 

"Steve," she started and paused, searching for the right words. "Where we've been doesn't make us who we are. Only what we've learned on the way." 

Steve nodded, although he knew she couldn't see him. "Are you going to be okay?" he asked instead. 

"I'm going to be around," was all that she replied. 

"Be safe," he said, not above pleading. "Please, be safe." It was a stupid thing to say. 

"You too," Sharon told him. She didn't know that he already was. 

 

 

The first time Eddie used Steve's hand to brush over Carol's skin, it was to get some dust off her cheek and Steve barely paid attention to it. 

The first time Carol used Steve's hand to trace the lines of Eddie's tattoo, the heat of the afternoon was almost unbearable and Steve welcomed the distraction, Venom choosing to cool his fingertips by placing himself over the lines. 

The first time he sunk both his hands into the alien entirely, the symbiote was pooling on Eddie's back and Steve had asked for permission first. 

But the firsts faded into seconds, and the seconds into thirds. 

And then it was just who they were. 

"How did he die?" Steve asked Venom one night. He couldn't know for sure whether or not Carol and Eddie were sleeping, but it didn't matter. "The guy with the earring?" 

"We bit his head off," Venom informed him, tongue slithering out to lick his teeth at the images. "We ate all his organs." 

"He was still a kid," Steve mumbled. He didn't know exactly how many Hydra agents had been rehabilitated over the years. He knew about Nat though. He knew about Bucky. 

"Eddie says it's okay to eat bad guys," Venom said. "He was killing us. Isn't that bad?" 

"Yeah," Steve assured him. "That was bad." They all ran the risk of dying in battle. Of being killed before righting some wrongs. Earring-guy had had a couple of chances before he died. "He still haunts me." 

"Eddie says memories are a pest," Venom tells him, resting his chin on Steve's shoulder. 

"He isn't wrong," Steve said, inevitably thinking of Bucky and how his memories were a curse at times despite being the only thing that had saved him. 

"I can't make him forget," Venom added, sounding almost hurt about it. "I can't heal him like that. Not like you do." 

"Me?" Steve asked surprised. He was pretty sure Eddie was asleep now with how little he reacted to the symbiote's words. "Does that mean you don't mind having me around?" 

The symbiote didn't answer, just closed his eyes and spread some of his body over Steve's arm and up to his collarbone. 

Steve didn't mind having him around either. 

 

 

"You know, you don't owe me right?" Steve said to Buck one day out on the porch again. "You don't have to stay." 

Buck looked at him, his hair had already grown so much longer. They didn't need to cut it for disguise anymore. Maybe Buck liked it better like this. Maybe Sam did. Steve was undecided. He had liked seeing Buck resemble his pre-war self for a while. He knew it wasn't his choice to make though. 

"We were thinking of going to Europe for a while," Buck said, his expression revealing that he had dreaded telling Steve. "Sam and me," he added. 

"Bucharest?" Steve guessed and Buck nodded. He was going to share with Sam what he was unwilling, unable, to share with Steve. "Good," Steve said, another lie. 

"We haven't really made plans," Bucky assured him, but it didn't matter to Steve. Plans didn't need a date. Sometimes a dream was a plan. Sometimes words whispered between sheets were a plan. 

"I'm happy for you," Steve said. Feeling the need to say it. Feeling Bucky's need to hear it. "You said it would be us until the end of the line," he added carefully. Careful not to hurt himself all at once as he set Bucky free. "We've been through so much. More than most people. That's enough war for a lifetime." Steve took a deep breath, decision already made. "I think this is the end of the line, Buck." 

Bucky stared at him, taking in those words. They weren't goodbye at all. They were something else entirely. Something incomprehensible to both of them. And yet Steve had said them. And Bucky had begged to hear them. Since Sam he had begged to hear them. Steve was sure of it. 

They were going to bury it here. Steve was going to bury his love here. Six feet deep. At the end of the line. 

"Steve," Bucky started and Steve swayed, for one last time, with how much he loved hearing Buck speak his name. 

"Don't make me fight you on this," Steve said, smiling through the ache of his tight chest. 

Bucky stepped into his space, pulling him into a hug. The first one since he'd gone on Fury's mission. The first one in too long. And Steve hugged him back. Not as desperate as he had clung to his side days before. Just relieved. And full of stupid love that didn't need to have him anymore. That was fine letting Bucky go. 

"Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone," Buck said meaning so well. 

But Steve's throat closed up and the tears forced its way, leaving him with nothing but a sob for a reply. 

It was okay, but Steve's heart was still sore. He was going to be okay in time. 

 

 

The day Carol told them, she was going to start packing for Louisiana, Steve turned to Eddie, knowing what he had wanted to ask for a while now. 

"I miss the ocean," he told him, eyes glancing down to his trembling hands. "I've never seen pacific beaches," he admitted, hoping Eddie would get it. 

"You want me to take you to San Francisco?" he asked, smiling to himself. 

Steve nodded. It was exactly what he wanted. "I'm not going without Nat," he still said. He just wasn't. And if she had other plans he would just go with her. He couldn't imagine being apart from her. 

Eddie shrugged. "As if that would make me less eager to take you," he said and then looked over at Carol. "You're gonna meet us there, right? Eventually?" 

She threw a sock at his head and dared him to come after her for revenge. 

"I'll find you," she promised, eyes back on Steve when she smirked. 

That night Steve had let himself be touched all over. Eddie's hand on him. Stroking his chest, his stomach, his cock. Eddie's hand between his legs, cupping his balls. His own hard cock dragging against Steve's body. 

That night Steve had kissed Carol with Eddie breathing down his back, with his hands on her breasts, thumb playing with the nipple. That night he had put his mouth on her neck, dipped his tongue into her belly button and between her legs. 

That night he drank her up, fingers digging into her thigh as he kissed a hungry Eddie in between and after. That night he had come apart with both their hands around him, careful not to touch each other. Focused entirely on Steve. 

None of it was, but Steve hadn't felt this ridiculously, stupidly, embarrassingly _normal_ in so long when he came, when he spilled all his past agony and haunting memories between them. Maybe he didn't even know what normal meant anymore. All that he felt was his entire body flooded with endorphins. Dopamine. Whatever fed Venom was feeding Steve too. 

And although he was already fully aware of it, doubts still somewhat fresh in the back of his mind, he realized that he wasn't lost at all. That he wasn't dead yet. Not physically. Not sexually. Not emotionally. They hadn't killed him. 

He was okay. 

 


	14. Chapter 14

"What's the matter?" Nat asked. She stood just a couple of feet from him, water playing along her thighs. She did look good in a bikini. Scar or no scar. She still had her sunglasses on. Of course she was one of those people hitting the ocean with shades. 

"It's not getting any wetter," Eddie said floating behind Nat on a giant inflatable donut. 

Steve looked up at them, then down to the light foam of the crushing waves around his toes, remembering who taught him to swim. Remembering Bucky in the water. Bucky saving him from drowning more than once. 

This time he wasn't around to keep Steve's head above the water. 

Steve looked up at the sky, knowing Buck and Sam were on a plane by now. Taking them further away from him. 

The sky was endless blue, seagulls roaming through a light breeze and a pair of kites rose up into the air from behind him. One of them had his shield painted on and Steve grinned. That kid was lucky his merchandise was legal again. 

Salt and summer were in the air and Steve brushed a hand over his stomach, all that was left there were memories of the pain. 

"This isn't a photoshoot, Steve," Nat called shaking her head as she gave Eddie and his floatie a little nudge. 

"Coming," Steve said, probably not loud enough for her to hear. He took a deep breath, then another step forward, the water hitting his ankles. The sand beneath his feet and between his toes was soft and yielding as he made his way towards them, thin rope wrapped around his hand that pulled along a blow-up space rocket over the waves. 

He was aware he was being looked at. If not by strangers who recognized him, if not by strangers who just thought he was nice to look at, despite painful pale skin and the untrimmed beard, then still by Nat behind her sunglasses. By Eddie, with a knowing smile. 

Although, he was arguably used to the looks, was used to the stares, it was different now. There had been a time he was shy about it. Then there had been a time he was even enjoying it. And now it was the time where he could barely stand it. 

It didn't matter what people saw. It was what they couldn't. It didn't matter that what had happened was invisible. That history was impossible to see. Steve still felt the ghosts crawling through his veins. Not all the time. Not as bad as it used to be. But when he took off his clothes. When he laid on his back. When someone looked at him too long. 

Like Eddie. But not like Eddie. Steve trusted him with those long looks. He trusted Eddie's eyes when they roamed his body. At night or during the day. When he liked what he saw and made mental notes on what to do with it. With Steve. 

Those looks weren't uninvited. It wasn't just Eddie. It was Steve, too, who checked him out in return. Every chance he got. It was all new. For someone being in love with the same guy for a hundred years, it was all new to discover someone else. Discover the idea of another body. Steve never knew when to stop. 

They had been naked together while they were held in their cell. To clean up and check for wounds. They had been naked together at the safe house. For comfort. And to make their way back into life. They had been touching each other all over. And although it was maybe the most innocent form, aside maybe from the fact it had involved three people, Steve still knew they had sex. No matter what other people may have called it. They've had sex the night before Carol had left. 

And it had left him wanting more. More of Eddie. And more of Carol. Cautiously, still, in his body, but hungrily in his thoughts. Thoughts he let play out in his own glances. On Eddie's body. His hair, his chest, his ass. Thoughts that he couldn't hide. Couldn't hide in this moment, when their eyes met and Eddie held Steve's gaze for his own fantasies. 

He threw the end of the little rope over for Eddie to hold onto so that Steve wouldn't drift too far from them. Then Eddie helped Nat climb into his donut with impossible grace as Steve scrambled for leverage, trying not to slip and fall off his rocket, back into the ocean. 

When he finally sat somewhat stable with the sticky plastic between his legs he let his body fall forward, eyes closed with his hands and feet in the water, rocking with the waves as the sun warmed the skin on his neck and back. 

He listened to their voices without listening to their words, listened to them laughing, to them yelling when Venom almost bit into the rubber. It made Steve laugh in return. It caught him a couple of mean splashes, but the water felt nice against his skin and he savoured the cooling sensation instead.  

 

It wasn't always easy like this. Acknowledging it all, living with all of it, and still being there in the moment. Being somewhat there in the moment. 

When they'd left the house behind, Steve had felt jarred by Carol's absence, terrified that it would all fall apart now. It wasn't just Carol. It was Nat who wanted to see Clint first, before meeting back with Steve in San Francisco. 

It was the way Sam had hugged him too tight, and the way Bucky had barely hugged him at all. Not in front of the others. They'd done that earlier. Alone. It was all new to them. Be apart. By choice. By Steve's choice. And it had felt foreign and inherently wrong. 

But it had been right. 

It was still right. 

Steve still had his sleepless nights, but he never slept alone and the pain of their absence faded over the days. They had stayed with Eddie's ex and her new boyfriend for the first two nights, taking care of Eddie's place until after noon and exploring the city into the evenings. 

It had been quite a fight when they had come for Eddie and Venom. Hydra. The Life Foundation. The fucking government. The entire place was trashed and most of the furniture was destroyed. 

But Eddie said he didn't remember much. 

Venom did though. 

At night, he told Steve all the horrifying details that Eddie's brain had chosen to bury.  

At night, Venom liked to talk about brains in general. Sometimes Eddie's brain in particular. And all its beautiful chemicals. 

The first night back in his own place, Eddie hat woken up every hour, cold sweat on the back of his neck. Cold sweat on the tip of Steve's tongue when he kissed it away. 

Somehow here, out in California, their roles had reversed. It was Steve who held him through the memories. Through the panic and fear. 

It was Steve kissing away the sorrow. The memory of the touches. Who warmed Eddie's skin where Venom didn't cool it. 

Steve liked this role better. Not just because it was more familiar, but because it brought back strength. And faith in his own strength. And because it made him realize that he didn't have to earn Eddie's trust anymore. Or Venom's. He had it and they had his in return. 

The nights were survival, but their mornings were for discoveries. For kisses with intent. For flushed cheeks and blood rushing to all the right places. 

Mornings were for learning more about handjobs, about mutual masturbation. That's what Eddie had called it once. Steve still called it sex. The way they let their bodies move against each other. Steve's hand wrapped around Eddie's cock. Eddie's hand stroking Steve closer and closer to the edge. And Venom somewhere in between. 

He hadn't always been there. Not like this. Not with Carol, during their first night. Their last night. Not in the shower at Anne's place, when Steve had asked first if he could touch Eddie, satisfy and relieve him. He had been hiding some desperation and was expecting to be rejected. 

"God yes," Eddie had said instead. It had only taken him a minute to come all over Steve's hand. 

Steve hadn't been able to face Anne properly during breakfast without blushing in shame and apology. 

Now Venom was there all the time. Wrapped around Eddie's hips, tendrils on Eddie's cock, his balls, between Steve's fingers. 

Then sometimes on Steve too when Eddie's hands were busy elsewhere. When they were buried in his hair or holding him down by the wrists. 

It was those mornings that Steve learned about techniques. About styles and finesse. About all the things that could never be forced. 

That's how Steve came to love mornings. 

Mornings when Steve put his mouth on Eddie's chest and his nipples, tongue flat for his hunger and then later just the tip to tease Eddie into breaking sweat. Mornings when Venom lead the way of Steve's lips. Black lines guiding his mouth to anywhere that made the hairs stand on Eddie's skin. 

Sometimes Eddie called it foreplay, but Steve never managed to hold out long enough to find out what was supposed to come after. 

When Eddie was with him, his body relaxed and his skin was sensitive to the touch. He's had just a row of one-time kisses in the past, didn't know too much about it really, but kissing Eddie was different. Kissing Eddie had become part of his days, his nights, his dreams. He could kiss Eddie when he was overflown by happiness and relief. He could kiss Eddie when he thought he couldn't make it through. 

He was allowed to kiss Eddie for no reason at all. Was allowed to walk right up to him. Walk right up to his mouth with his own. Lips parted and tongue curling with anticipation. It was a more powerful feeling than holding that goddamn shield. 

Eddie's lips were always pillowy soft and his mouth was always wet, either from talking too fast or wet from excitement. The first time it had traveled down Steve's chest and stomach it had been too much and Steve had stopped him with a shaking hand on his shoulder. 

A hundred years and he's never had anyone's mouth on his cock. He didn't know what to do with it. Didn't even know what to do with the thought of it, so he couldn't let it happen. He felt stupid and scared, scared of something nice, something so terribly nice that it brought tears to Steve's eyes. But he didn't know how to phrase it. How to put it into words. 

"We can go slow," Eddie said, getting it. Maybe getting some of it. "It's alright." 

But it wasn't. 

Steve wanted this. And he didn't want a history of assault or his lack of experience to keep him from having it. It wasn't fair that it kept him from having it. 

"I don't know what to do," Steve almost blurted his admission. "I wouldn't know what to do." 

Eddie made his way back up Steve's body, brushing his lips with a kiss first, then with the pad of his thumb. "You enjoy it," he said and smiled. 

"Will you?" Steve asked, knowing he sounded more like an insecure teenager than an adult man who had been fighting more wars than one. 

Eddie's smile turned into a grin and he shook his head in disbelief. "Have you seen yourself?" he asked, and then immediately realized that it was a stupid thing to say. "Steve, hey," he tried again. "I like you," he said carefully. "I want you. I want this. Doing all these things with you. I want to get you off with my mouth." 

Steve shoulders twitched and his cock did too. He took a deep breath, not to brace himself, but because he wanted more contact. Tried to connect the skin of his chest with Eddie's above it. Wanted Eddie to notice his hard nipple and put his teeth there. Because he wanted to breathe him in and get him back on track without having to speak up. 

He nodded when Eddie still eyed his expression, curious and cautious. 

"Please," Steve whispered then. Didn't know how else to ask for it. 

Eddie ducked his head back down as Steve closed his eyes, lips trailing down Steve's neck first, then over his chest with a chaste kiss on the eager nipple, and further down along his hip bone. 

It wasn't so much a shock as it was a revelation, being taken into Eddie's mouth. The insides of his cheeks velvety and hot, Steve's cock sliding over a tantalizing tongue right to the back of his throat. 

Steve gasped first, then moaned, his breath coming too fast now for him to catch it. 

One moment it was just him, just Eddie moving back and forth, just Eddie sucking so gently at the tip before guiding Steve back into the wet heat of his mouth. And then it wasn't just him anymore. Then it was Venom coating Eddie's teeth so they couldn't get in the way, it was the sensation of hot and cold, of being engulfed all at once and being teased at random in particular places, tendrils squeezing the base or nudging at the slit. 

Steve shivered all over, fists closed so tight around the sheets that he heard them tear at one point. 

"Easy," someone said. It wasn't Eddie. Eddie had his mouth full. It was Venom. It was Venom peeking out from between Eddie's shoulder blades, watching Steve with curious eyes. Venom speaking Eddie's thoughts. 

"Fuck," Steve forced out. He forgot he was in bed with a literal alien. A literal alien staring at him while Eddie was busy with his cock in his mouth. It was strange and surreal, but it was still less threatening than the guard's touches or the doctors with their gloved hands. It wasn't threatening at all. 

Under Venom's gaze, Steve started to feel even safer than before, more confident even. Started to feel wanted everywhere. By Eddie. And more than Eddie. Wanted by both of them. 

Easy, Steve echoed in his head, his toes uncurling as he relaxed his legs. Eddie held onto his thigh, pushed it out a little further, and Steve decided to be a cliché and ran his fingers through his hair, grabbing it gently whenever he felt the pressure rising. 

None of his little tugs were honest warnings, he could tell by now exactly when he was about to come. They've had enough practice already. 

Steve couldn't distinguish them anymore, the smell of mornings and the smell of sex. They were one and the same. 

He'd come in thick, creamy white stripes over his stomach first, all those altered sperm cells from their fertility treatment eager to leave his body. Sometimes he'd come in almost painful waves, so sticky and hot, hidden under the sheets into Eddie's fist that he cried out from the relief. 

Over time, though the ivory drops had faded and started glistering more delicately like pearling sweat or his salty tears. When he came these days, his cock drooled with almost the same clear fluid that pools in the dip of his slit earlier, head of his cock wet with very little semen. 

"The hormones," Steve had shrugged, bringing Eddie's soaked hand up to his lips. They had changed him. Sperm production had ceased, Steve could tell. Not shut down entirely, but Steve felt the change in his bones. 

He didn't want to talk about it. 

"Something Venom could fix?" Eddie had asked later. It had become the easiest solution. 

Steve shook his head. He didn't care. There was nothing wrong with his body. 

Now, Steve held Venom's gaze, his hips trembling when Eddie took him in deeper still. Steve didn't know if Venom knew exactly what they were doing, all he could tell was that the symbiote was hungry for Eddie's happiness. And that somehow he didn't mind sharing that with Steve. 

"Am close," Steve breathed and Venom seemed to grin even wider at that. He slung more of his body around Eddie, tendrils making their way down his stomach and back. A blowjob for Steve was more than a blowjob to Eddie. Venom knew what Eddie liked and he made sure satisfaction ran both ways at once. They were going to come together. Venom would make sure they'd be coming together. 

 

"I've forgotten what these feel like," Steve said. He stood naked in Eddie's bathroom, back turned towards Eddie who kissed the sunburned skin before he rubbed soothing lotion into it. 

It was worth it. The day at the beach had been worth it. Being able to stand here, comfortably like this, bare and vulnerable with Eddie, had been worth it. 

"Should we be worried about this?" Eddie asked, massaging the muscles beneath Steve's shoulders too. He moved closer, aligned their bodies to let Steve feel what could possibly come after the foreplay. 

"No," Steve lied, leaning into the touch. "I'm sure it'll be gone by tomorrow." He could already tell he was healing, just not as fast as before. And maybe a little wrong. Like his foot. Like his ear. Like his body trying to produce viable sperm and failed to even build a single cell. His body was working just fine, was trying. Was putting pieces back together one by one. As it should. Just not always the right pieces. Not always in the right order. Not always within days. Maybe Steve didn't mind. 

Maybe part of him liked knowing that the life ahead of him was frail. And laced with aching bones in the morning and breaking skin from the cold. Maybe he liked the idea of growing old now. Retired and with battle scars. 

 

When Nat told him she had taken another mission, Steve went into a proper fit. He snapped at her, he yelled at Eddie. He punched through a wall like a goddamn moron. Yes, he wanted to use force to make her stay. He wanted to tear her from Fury and hold her in place. Here. With them. 

"For Clint," she said, but it only made things worse. 

"You're taking his place?" Steve asked defeated, but he already knew the answer. 

"He has kids," she shrugged. Like that should mean something to Steve. Maybe it had once. Maybe it hadn't. 

"You have family, too," Steve insisted.  But it shouldn't matter anyway. It shouldn't matter either that Nat couldn't have any. That Steve couldn't anymore. Their lives hadn't suddenly become disposable. 

Or maybe they had. 

She left either way. 

She left either way, because it had never been about Clint's children anyway. Or his wife. She would just die for him, like she would die for Steve. 

 

"I've always wanted to break through that wall," Eddie said and shrugged when they were alone again. Nat's absence like a heavy aching emptiness between them, groaning with its weight.  She had promised to come back. "Bedroom-slash-kitchen? What's not to like?" 

"I'm sorry," Steve apologized. He meant it. He was ashamed for what he did. It wasn't a good sign. It wasn't right. And it added panic to the pain. "I'll fix it. I'll never break anything ever again." 

"It'll be fine," Eddie just said. Talking about the wall. Talking about Steve's temper. Talking about Nat and her mission. "We'll be fine." 

A week later, Eddie went back to work. Secured a couple of freelancing journalism jobs to pay for the added expenses. 

Steve had felt even worse then. He hadn't given money much thought at all. It had always been there. Being Captain America had paid him too well than for him to ever worry about bills. But the government had seized and frozen his accounts when he became a criminal. Money that even Fury couldn't get back. All that he had left now was his veteran pension. 

It had been on Eddie's fourth job, a particular political piece, that Steve had offered to draw a little cartoon to go with it. 

"I don't know, I think they usually prefer a photo to go with the article," Eddie told him, but he ended up submitting Steve's caricature as well. They printed it on a Saturday on page two. The first ever Brock-Rogers collaboration. 

"What do you think?" Eddie asked Venom, holding out the newspaper in front of his little head. "Pretty cool, huh?" 

"We could have gotten a better quote," Venom said, studying the page although Steve wasn't sure he could read. "That guy was about to confess." 

"Some other time, love," Eddie assured him. He had convinced Venom that they shouldn't just threaten anyone for a good story. "There are bigger fish to fry." 

He glanced up at Steve, catching him thinking the same thing. Revenge wasn't entirely off the table yet. Maybe they'd let Fury do the dirty work for them. And then get to whoever was responsible in the first place. Those people way up the chain of command.  

 

They were heading home from another day at the beach, just the two of them this time, three of them, with Venom quietly complaining about the salt water, when things were about to change for the better again. 

He was usually more careful to be seen, but as soon as they entered their building Venom pulled his little head from Eddie's body and down his arm to inspect their groceries. 

"There's enough chocolate in there, buddy," Steve assured him, taking the heavy bag from Eddie's hand to shoulder it. 

Venom noticed it first, of course he would, suddenly hiding his body deep within Eddie who still struggled to get the keys out of his pocket. 

"Those are ridiculous," Carol said, eyeing up Steve's neon printed shorts. She was leaning with her back against the door to Eddie's apartment, hair a little longer than Steve remembered it, in worn out jeans and another vintage band shirt. 

Steve almost dropped all the bags and groceries at once, arms eager to wrap around her shoulders. 

"You're here," he said, smiling from ear to ear. 

"Told you I would find you, didn't I?" she asked, glancing at Eddie who sported a pair of flushed cheeks. "You lost that parasite yet?" She grinned, knowing well enough about the yelling and hissing that was ensured to erupt in Eddie's head not a second later. 

And although Steve had come as far as to feel for Venom, his heart still hammered with joy and relief.

 


	15. Chapter 15

Carol's skin was hot from her powers and Steve's skin was hot from the beach. Eddie's skin was hot from the sheets, from the anticipation, from his chest flush against Steve's back. He had a hand in Steve's hair, fingertips grazing through the loose strands, salted sand catching under his nails. 

The noise of the streets reached them only from far away, cable cars and motorbikes. People talking, laughing, living their lives. The sun was so low, the horizon was burning up in bright orange behind the city buildings, purple and blue spreading further up the sky. Pale moon looking almost transparent. 

"How was Louisiana?" Steve asked, suddenly feeling nervous. She was so close to him now, her eyes soft and her lips still wet from the kiss. Steve licked his own at the memory. He wanted it to never fade. 

"Therapeutic," she said, her fingers trailing up Steve's forearm, then circling over his elbow. Her fingers were gentle, but her touch was captivating. He felt it reaching down into the muscles and bones, every part of his body coming undone. 

Their clothes lay scattered on the floor, shirts and pants piling on the carpet. 'Take it off,' Carol had said, a hand on his stomach and the other tugging at the collar. She wanted to touch him all over. 

Behind her from the handle of the door they hadn't even bothered to close, dangled her bra, air flowing from the windows through every room of Eddie's apartment. Steve stared at the black lace, couldn't even remember if he helped her take it off. If he had slid a strap past her shoulder, had used his fingers for the clasps. He liked the thought of it. 

Eddie put his nose in the curve of Steve's neck. Every palpable breath a lifesign Steve savored shamelessly. Not just Eddie's breaths, but the beating of his heart. His ankle in between Steve's feet and his other hand safely tucked away in Steve's boxers. 

There wasn't any part of Steve's body that Eddie hadn't touched by now, that he hadn't made his. Not just the sensitive parts, the hidden, intimate places. But the insides of his arms, where the needles had been, that Eddie liked to sleep on in the afternoons. Steve's toes that he touched with his own every morning, even the crooked ones, because once broken didn't mean less beautiful. The top of Steve's head, that he sometimes placed his chin on first, watching what Steve was drawing, and then a kiss before he let him be. 

He wasn't even doing anything with his hand now, palm just resting over the dip between Steve's hip bone and the base of his cock. The same way he did sometimes before they fell asleep. Seeking nothing but contact where Steve's body was soft and vulnerable, less of a soldier and more of his old self. It wasn't much different now. 

But Steve was hard nonetheless. He couldn't say for how long. Didn't know when it had started, only noticed when Carol's stomach rubbed right against the head, causing him to close his eyes as the shiver washed over him. With the back of Eddie's hand covered by the fabric, Carol had their bodies aligned, Steve's thigh between her legs. It was all too much. 

She was wet, aroused like him, sharing the same place, the same thoughts. She wasn't all naked either, but Steve could feel the damp spot growing over the silky material. She let him feel it. Every now and then, moving her hips just right. And Steve wished her underwear away. 

"Stay with us," Steve said, voice barely there. "If not forever than for a while." He closed his eyes, because he didn't really want a reply. He didn't really want to see what she would tell him. One way or the other. He hadn't even asked Eddie how long he would have him. He lived in this fantasy of happily ever after. He was high on endorphins, on love hormones and adrenaline. Had been high on it for weeks. He wasn't ready to come down any time soon. 

Carol had already been so close, so close that the bed felt too big even for the three of them, he barely registered when she moved, her lips on his mouth just a second later. He sank into the kiss just like he had before, pliant and willing, as if it was answer enough, his lips parting when she wanted to deepen it. 

He hadn't forgotten what it felt like to kiss her, hadn't forgotten the way the tip of her nose fit just right next to his, the way he could sometimes feel the shape of that smirk building right there on her lips. The way she tasted, like summer heat and lightning. 

As Carol teased him with her tongue,  Eddie kissed along his shoulder blade and Steve didn't know which way to lean, forward or backward, he wanted it all. 

His fingers were trembling when he brushed them passed Carol's chin along her jaw, thumb caressing her earlobe before he ran his hand through her hair. Somehow he was scared of doing something wrong. Of pushing her away when the opposite was what he wanted. 

They've seen worse of each other. Worse than hours of travel and sunburned skin. Worse than the sweat sticking to their bodies and to the hairs beneath Eddie's fingers. Worse than insecurities and hesitations. 

Carol's hand moved from his elbow up to his shoulder, lingered there with the urge to touch Eddie. But she couldn't. And so Steve felt it, too, almost unbearably, the urge to get his hands behind him and on Eddie's body. 

He wanted to run his hands all over his skin, wherever Carol couldn't. Hold onto him, with fingers and teeth, leaving bruises where he touched him. Desperate bruises. Those from love. Wanted Eddie to return them. And Carol's marks all over his body. Cigarette burns from fingertip touches. 

He wanted his body to look worse than when they've first met. Not all self-harm was self-destruction. He didn't want his body to be his own, only so he could sacrifice it to them. He wanted to use it. He wanted more of his body to touch them. Wanted all of his body to connect. Collide. High-intensity moments. This was better than throwing himself out an airplane. Better than winning a fight. A battle. A war. 

Steve whined through the kiss, through Carol's touch on his neck. Whined, whimpered and pleaded until the hand in his boxers came to life. Until Eddie almost pulled himself closer by the firm grip around Steve's cock. His own, just as hard, pressed against the small of Steve's back. For how long, Steve couldn't tell. 

Someone moved, someone always started it, like a chemical reaction. Maybe Steve with his back and forth, not knowing where to turn. Maybe Carol circling her hips on Steve's thigh, Steve's breath hitching over the sensation, forcing his body deeper into Eddie's touch. Maybe Eddie pushing back, seeking fraction. Steve losing patience, shifting with it to get Eddie's hand going, dragging his skin and the silky wet fabric over Carol's clit, losing his breath all over at the sound coming out of her mouth. 

There were hands, all over Steve, but they avoided each other on blind instinct by now. Probably Venom warning Eddie whenever Carol got too close, or her looking out for the symbiote. For Venom who hadn't shown himself since she had appeared at their door. But he was there. He was there with Eddie always. Steve knew. And realizing that made him breathe out in relief. They were all safe. No place in his thoughts for worries or fears. 

Steve let himself be moved on his back, remembering the last time he lay like this. Between them, back in the house, Bucky just around the corner. When he came from their touch without thinking of him at all. 

It was going to be like this again, he thought. Was sure of it. They were going to touch him until he trembled and tightened. They were going to kiss him everywhere they could reach. And he'd touch them later. Hands, fingers, lips. He'd satisfy both of them. Once, twice, he didn't care. He'd do it all night. 

Eddie helped him to get rid of his boxers, Steve's head comfortably back on the pillows, cock freed and thick with anticipation. Eddie settled his body between Steve's legs and gently nudged one of Steve's knees up as he scooted just a little closer. He traced an invisible line from Steve's knees to the middle of his thigh with his tongue, mouthing over the shiny wet spot that tasted of Carol more than Steve. 

Steve blushed at the sight but relished in it all the same with bittersweet jealousy. He hadn't had a chance yet to move his lips between her legs again, hadn't had a chance to mend that burning thirst. Eddie had his eyes closed, dark lashes just over Steve's pale skin, pale hairs standing as he shivered. 

Carol held him in place, somehow all around him, halfway draped over his shoulder and with her lips pressed against his temple. One leg thrown over Steve's body, thigh on his ribs, moving with his breath. 

When Eddie glanced up, Steve recognized the look of sheer desire and he envied Eddie for the view. Imagined just what he'd see, glistering silk and the curves of her rosy soft lips beneath it. He moved his hand to her knee, held it there. For Eddie. For the images and his thoughts. 

But Eddie moved Steve's own knee up, the other one, parting his thighs and tilting his hips forward. 

All the muscles across Steve's stomach tightened. None of this was unfamiliar. Being with Eddie. Being with Eddie and Carol. Both of them at once. Being touched and being watched. Being spread out and squeezed between them. And thanks to Venom, being watched as Eddie's mouth was back on track towards Steve's cock, wasn't even unfamiliar either. 

But this was different. It wasn't going to be like before. 

Steve didn't know where it came from when Carol handed over the bottle of lube, nor whatever surreal connection had them synchronized when Eddie reached out to take it from her. 

This was still about him, but different nonetheless. 

Eddie took Steve in all at once, his mouth hot and wet and eager to swallow around him. Steve moaned, clung to Carol so he wouldn't come right then and there. 

"Don't worry about it, Steve," she said, kissing his cheek and the corner of his mouth. How could he not worry about it when he wanted time to stand still. When he wanted this to last. This, the three of them here. In Eddie's bed, with the slow fading day and a million heartbeats from harm. 

When he felt the first wet finger against his rim, he shook his head. Not because he didn't want it, but because once more, he didn't know what to do with all of it. "Eddie," he said, desperation seeping into his tone. "Eddie, I-," he started, but faltered. Didn't know what to say. 

Eddie's hand stilled and he looked up. "You're scared?" he asked. 

Steve shook his head again. It wasn't the right word. It wasn't the right emotion. He had felt it coming for days now. Where they were heading. He had known and he had made use of every chance to just talk about it. 

But this wasn't talking about it. This wasn't fantasies being discussed. Sensations and promises. This was happening. And one particular thought wouldn't leave him just now. Something other than 'will it hurt?'. Or 'do you like it too?'. Something he hadn't thought about earlier. 

"Is it going to be just you?" he asked, not sure which answer he'd prefer. It was entirely up to Eddie. To Venom. 

Eddie looked at him completely still for a moment before he glanced at Carol. She wasn't who Steve meant and Eddie knew. 

There was a good chance that he hadn't thought about it either, at least that's what Steve took from his silence. And despite all their nightly conversations, Steve had never talked to Venom about this. If what he did with Eddie at times, what he did with Eddie when Eddie was busy with Steve, could ever translate into something he'd be doing with Steve as well. 

And this was probably the worst time to bring it up. The worst time to ask for it. 

Was that was Steve was doing? Maybe he wasn't impartial to the answer after all. He'd seen what Venom did to Eddie. Those things that made him fall apart right under Steve's touch. Things that required a different kind of love. Things Steve could never do. 

"I don't care either way," Steve said, quietly. But it wasn't what he wanted to say at all. He hadn't found a way yet, to put it into words. But if he couldn't, Venom wouldn't know. So he tried again. "It's always been the both of you, right? One way or another? No need to change that now." 

Eddie nodded, though his expression couldn't quite hide the confusion. This was new to him too. This was new to all of them. 

Steve thought his body would build up more resistance, but it didn't. Once the skin around his entrance was slippery wet, once the tip of a first finger breached him, his body gave way to its entire length. 

As if she knew just when, Carol tilted his head to the side and kissed that first moan right from his lips, distracting him from the faint discomfort, the novelty of it all. With the hand on her knee and the other splayed across her back, he pulled her body closer, nothing better in this world to hold onto. To ground him. 

The second finger went in not too long after. This time Eddie distracted him with his mouth back on Steve's cock, tongue circling the head, and Steve moved his hips back on instinct. He wanted more of Eddie's mouth, wanted to feel his lips drag along the shaft, pushed back on Eddie's fingers as he did so. 

The heat spread from Carol's body down to his stomach, over his legs and between them, rim burning with the stretch. 

When it was time for a third finger, it wasn't Eddie but Venom, cool and slick as he pushed in along. Steve was still halfway deep into Eddie's mouth, with no chance to give fair warning, when he spilled himself all over Eddie's tongue, sensations overflowing when Venom brushed over his prostate, the first time in Steve's life that anyone had done that. 

"Don't worry about it," Carol said again, his body jerking beneath her with the aftershocks. 

Eddie swallowed it all down, expecting, wanting nothing else to happen. Steve's body relaxed, wrung out yet ready for more. He could take it. He wanted to take it. This, he wanted to do all day. 

"Just let me take these off," Carol said while Steve still tried to even out his breath. He didn't want to let her go. But he wanted her naked too. 

Eddie moved off him as well, leaving Steve, suddenly cold and exposed, to take off his own underwear. Steve warmed himself with the sight, stealing glances here and there to prolong his blissed out state. 

He'd just closed his eyes to put the images into proper fantasies, when Carol nudged his shoulder. "Come on, this is my spot," she said, her cheeks were flushed and her hair messy. "You go in the middle." 

It took Steve a moment to realize that she didn't mean the middle of the bed, where Steve was perfectly placed. His body felt heavy, immovable almost, but Eddie helped him up and pulled him into a kiss. 

Although it was late in the evening, Eddie tasted of mornings, of sex, and the beach. Carol's taste washed away by his own. Everything blurred. 

Eddie manoeuvered both of them to the foot of the bed and then onto it, Steve shuffling about with shaky knees. 

He was still upright, back straight, with Eddie behind him, when he felt his fingers move down between his cheeks again, eager to return to a place within Steve. Steve's entire body twitched with anticipation, and he wasn't held any steadier by the sight beneath him. 

Carol spread her knees, just like Steve had earlier, legs parting, lips parting and Steve found himself dizzy all over at the sight. His chest felt too tight for the sharp breath he forced in, eyes everywhere and nowhere on her body. He was sweating, nothing he hadn't seen before, but still he was overwhelmed. 

He wanted to bury himself in her. Cock achingly hard, no clue when that happened again, arching towards her in desperation. 

Eddie added a second finger, just making sure that he was still loose enough, before he eased them out again. He was ready. Steve was ready. They were all set. 

Carol looked up at them. She smiled at Eddie first, of course she did, but then she smiled at Steve, just as fond and loving, and something rearranged in Steve. 

"Here," she said, holding out two condoms, her arm long and strong and welcoming, and in another timeline Steve just leaned in for a hug, instead of snatching the little plastic packages from her fingers. 

He stared at them for a moment, not sure what to do, when Eddie took one from him and carefully opened the wrapping to roll the condom over his cock. Steve did it alike, still sensitive from before, but his fingers were steady enough and it only took a second. 

"No more superhero alien babies, right?" she asked. And Steve nodded. 

"No more babies," he echoed. Better safe than sorry. 

He placed a hand on either of her thighs, stroking upward, warmed palms over tender skin, rubbing off those last memories of the dried blood himself. He took his time, taking in the flushed color of the unharmed body beneath him, urgency growing in his stomach. 

He leaned down to kiss her. Her mouth, her neck and her breasts. Down each rib and along her stomach, over thin hairs until he could dip his tongue between wet lips. 

Carol gasped first, then moaned, her hips moving, but he pressed his face closer to her body whenever she moved. 

Tender hands were running over his back and down his waist when Eddie pushed into him, cock thick and firm, entering him steady and relentless. Pressure and stretch blinding Steve's mind, and he wrote anguish and pleasure into the folds of Carol's skin, his body revealing places inside him that even Venom hadn't seen. 

He felt hot. Too hot everywhere, and he was dizzy with it. He feared to pass out from it for a second when he felt Eddie's arms around him, and then, not a second later, something cold against his neck, spreading down his spine and along his flanks. Venom plastering himself between Eddie's body and Steve, reaching around all the way to Steve's ribs, to keep them connected. 

Steve almost cried out from the loss when Eddie gently moved his head off Carol's body, tongue circling the entrance once more, hastily and rough, hungry for the taste. But then he pushed himself up, forward, to swap his tongue for his cock. 

"Come on, Steve," Carol urged him on. "You two," she added, back curling in the sheets. "Or three." She smirked, spreading her legs a little wider. She let a hand slip to her breast, played with her nipple. 

Steve smiled, although it killed him how much he wanted her. Them. With his own body in between. It hurt him in all the right places, tore him open at the scars of his heart, love flowing out where his blood used to rush. 

He lowered his body over Carol's, pulling Eddie along with him. Eddie and Venom. It didn't make sense to Steve. They were too many people for this to work. And yet they weren't. They worked just fine. 

His hand was steady as he braced it next to her shoulder, as was the other when he brushed a knuckle over her clit, brows furrowed in concentration, a fingertip teasing the wet entrance. One, then two, just like Eddie with him, he wanted her to be ready. 

He closed his eyes, helped himself along with suddenly not so steady fingers until he was lined up perfectly, tip of his cock wide but slick. 

Then he pushed in. Slowly, painfully slow, letting her feel him entering her, igniting the nerve endings before most of what she'd feel was that dull pressure and the urge to relieve it. The same thing he felt now. Now, with Eddie buried inside him and his rim used to the stretch. Now all that he felt was the ever present realization of having Eddie inside him, his body taking him in, offering itself up in return. 

Eddie whined when Steve entered Carol, Steve's body tightening around Eddie's cock as he sank deeper into her. Now he was glad, he'd already had his release, senses shutting down with the stimulation from all sides. 

He opened his eyes, as Carol reached out to cup his face, to pull him into another kiss. He let himself be held by Venom and moved by Eddie, his hips fitting just right between Carol's thighs. 

He didn't bother seeking a rhythm, letting Eddie find it for him, letting him fuck Steve and fuck Carol at once. He let Carol slow Eddie's pace or rush him, while he buried his head in her neck, or his mouth on her breasts, when he felt too insecure to look. 

It was by accident when Carol caught one of his glances, when she held it, and he couldn't bring himself to look away. Despite being scared what he would see. Scared that some part of her would reveal itself to him, a part that wished he were Eddie, and Eddie alone. 

But it wasn't there. It was all her looking up at him, biting her lip through the sensation of him pushing further in. Her body adjusting to his cock. His cock adjusting to her body. The two of them, no better, no worse. The two of them just right for now. His body inside her, the only body. No better, no worse. Just right for now. She wanted him all the same. And then Steve could barely look anywhere else. 

Couldn't look away. Not when the night grew darker around them, city lights and the moon shining through the windows, illuminating her features. And the sweat on her bottom lip. He kissed it away. He kissed her again when Eddie told him to. Kissed her neck when Eddie told him to. Moved a hand between them when Eddie told him to. 

"Touch her, please," Eddie said, his voice full and heavy. Sometimes he'd leaned away from Steve, gave his back a break from the uncomfortable position, fucked Steve through a couple of hard thrusts, through Carol's moans and Steve's grunts, body working overtime to keep him in position. 

"Don't squash me, alright?" Carol was panting, meeting Steve's body and Eddie thrusts alike, thighs trembling and hips squirming when Steve's fingers reached her clit. 

"I won't," Steve promised, rushed words in between rushed breaths. "I won't. I got you," he added, words slipping out, his lips swollen and wet. "I got you," he said again, watching her face as he realized how close she was. 

It was another chemical reaction, dominos falling, one by one. Carol who came first, body contracting around Steve. Another first, another unknown sensation. Then Steve followed, tearing his hand from between their bodies, to hold himself up. Body tensing all the same, moving helplessly back and forth with the waves, from Carol to Eddie, and then back into Carol, clenching around Eddie who managed a couple of rough thrusts still. Pushing into Steve, who was convinced he'd already fallen over if it hadn't been for Venom holding him closer to Eddie's body. Steve's body was open to him, cock dragging past his rim, as deep as he could go. Not deep enough. And Steve began pushing back, wanting to tear Eddie's orgasm from him if he couldn't pull him further inside. 

Eddie groaned from the force of Steve's body that worked against his own. With his own. That worked him over. His palms were slick with sweat, slipping from Steve's shoulder more than once. 

He shivered when Eddie came and Carol kissed him through those last staggering thrusts of Eddie's hips. Before he had a chance to protest Eddie pulled Steve off Carol first, and then his own body away from Steve's, condoms heavily filled. Wet on the outside from the lube, from Carol's body and sticky on the inside from their own release. 

Steve was still breathing hard, nose clogged from the physical exhaustion, from tears that were there at times, out in the open or right beneath the surface. Eddie didn't look any better when Steve turned to eye him, desperate to kiss him now. Venom was gone, holed up back in Eddie's body. For safety. To feast on the hormones. For sleep. 

"Let's get cleaned up," Eddie said, leading Steve to the bathroom by his hand. There, Eddie got rid of both the condoms and cleaned Steve everywhere with a soft washcloth, kissing him in between. Long and deep, or short and sweet. And every way in between. Then he got rid off any and all traces of Steve and himself, from his cock, his stomach and thighs, and his hands. Better safe than sorry. 

The bed was empty when they got back, but Steve let his body fall right in the middle where he belonged, stretched out arms and legs, happiness spreading all through his body. Everything started sinking in slowly, forming memories that drowned out the rest of the world. 

"There you are," Eddie said, tone soft and filled with faint longing. His body falling into place next to Steve's. 

Carol stood in the doorway, wearing Eddie's shirt over Steve's shorts, peeling down the wrapper of a chocolate bar. "This is good," she said, mouth full and then licked her finger before she took another bite. 

"Better leave some for Venom," Steve said quietly, squinting through tired eyes. He couldn't help himself, thinking about the symbiote scolding from the other side of the bed. 

"Don't bother," Eddie said, hand back in Steve's hair as he closed his eyes, satisfied smile spreading across his face. "Pretty sure he's full." 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm available on [tumblr](http://werebird.tumblr.com) for any private ranting :D


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